


One Sultry Spring

by virtualpersonal



Series: Seasons Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Consent Issues, Emotional, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Resolution, Romance, Sexy Times, Weddings, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3987157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys have made an agreement, one year apart then they'll try a relationship.  Sometimes things change, and one or both of them will just have to deal with it.  The time to deal with change comes a lot sooner when Dean finds himself in danger and calls Sam for help.  Sequel to "One Hot Summer", "One Long Fall" and "One Frozen Winter."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> co-written with Cha

[Late January]

It had been almost a month since he'd struck the deal with Sam and then watched him drive away from the cabin. With this much time having passed and with dad neither putting a bullet to his head, nor saying anything, Dean almost convinced himself that dad had never been on the porch that Christmas Eve. Or if he had been, that maybe he hadn't seen them going at each other, that they'd been resting. Yeah but... then why wouldn't he have come in?

It wasn't worth going in circles over this, it just wasn't... cause there was no solution and he was going to drive himself crazy. Still, every single time Sam's name came up, just like when dad asked about him as Dean was clearing up their plates from the table, Dean's heart smacked hard against his chest and he prepared for a confrontation. Tensing like this, waiting for dad's other heavy boot to drop, it was almost worse than if the confrontation were over. Then it would be over.

Glancing over his shoulder at his dad who was getting comfortable in front of the t.v. in the motel room they'd rented, Dean stood at the sink in the kitchenette washing up the plates. "Bobby say anything else about the Chupacabra in Texas?"

John looked up from the t.v., "Hmmm? Yeah ... no... no he didn't." John rubbed his eyes, grinding his hands into his aching eyeballs. Too much driving, too much surveillance and too much ... thinking; most of that about his boys. Boys. How old did they have to be before they weren't his boys anymore. He cleared his throat and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, enjoying the rare luxury of a comfortable chair in motel room. "Hey Son, grab us a couple beers and come sit?"

"Yeah, okay." Finishing up, Dean dried his hands on his jeans and opened the small fridge. Grabbing a couple of brews, he uncapped the bottles and headed to his dad, passing him one before dropping down on another chair, facing the t.v. "Is there a game?" Lifting the bottle, he took a drink and looked at the remote sitting on the arm of his dad's chair.

John twisted the bottle in his hand then ran it up and down his thigh. "Nah, nothing worth seein'." He reached out and turned the t.v. off. "You talk to Sam earlier?"

Dean sucked his breath in. Twice in less than an hour, that was unusual. "Ah... yeah. Not for long. He had things to do... study." He stared at the blank t.v., fighting the urge to tug at his collar.

Rubbing a hand over his face John glanced away from Dean, his palm rasping over his face. "I need a shave." He took a long pull on his beer bottle looking over to catch his son's eyes. "How do you think Sam is doing? No hunting and all that. Is he good?"

Why the hell he should feel like a deer caught in headlights, Dean didn't know. Trying hard not to look guilty or give any signs of nerves, he gave a small nod. "He likes it... school." No, this wasn't a good time to think of the sex they'd 'almost had' in Sam's room at the campus. Shit, his dad could probably reach right into his brain and see his thoughts. "I don't think he misses it, hunting, but he sometimes talks about the fun times." Was that it, was dad trying to let go of Sam?

John found himself nodding solemnly at Dean's answer. The thing was, John had always wanted his boys to have a good life, the life that he couldn't give them. Hell, he'd never say it out loud but he was proud of Sam for going off on his own; he just had a feeling that his youngest son didn't have everything with him that he would need to make a life for himself. "Fun times," John murmured, "misses you, ya mean?" There was a crooked grin on his face when he looked over at his oldest.

Dean's eyes widened and he hoped to hell the heat he was feeling at his neck wasn't stealing over his face. "Like a hole in his head. If he really remembered the shit I dragged him through..." He gave a half shrug. "We did have fun times... just not the kind others might get." Sam was real good at putting the blame on their dad for the way they'd lived, but Dean didn't like to do that. He understood. "Nothing spells 'fun' like getting a rock salt rifle of your own for your birthday."

A chuckle rumbled out of John's chest. "I'll never forget your brother's face - Sam has one hell of an expressive face." He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He really had given his sons a strange life: no home other than what Dean had managed to scrape together and fit in the back seat of the car, no one but each other to rely on, none of the things that normal kids would have grown up with. "You ... uh ... " John tilted his chin towards his son, "you think Sam's safe out there?" He tried to keep the concern off his face but there was no one in the world who knew him better than Dean.

He'd started to smile, but sobered, more at his dad's tone and expression than what he said. "He seemed fine. He knows how to protect himself," he nodded to one side, "even if he'd rather not." Dean thought about the things he'd seen in Sam's room. "I didn't see a gun when I was out there, but he has other things around. I think he'd call if he saw anything." His hand closed around the arm of the chair. "Why. Is there something... you heard something about the school?"

"No," John shook his head slowly. Dropping his feet to the floor, he leaned his arms on his thighs passing his bottle from one hand to the other. "I just worried about him less when he was with you." John shifted uncomfortably in the chair trying to stick to his plan to erase Christmas from his memory. "You know that I think you're a good man, Dean? That I trust you?" He looked down at his hands quickly not wanting to see the surprise he knew would be on his son's face at words of praise.

Dean felt his heart constrict even as his eyes widened again. Here it came, the 'but...'. But what, dad? There had to be a 'but.' He waited for the other boot to drop, and when his dad stayed silent, he started second guessing. All the reasons he didn't deserve that trust. He'd lead Sam astray, no matter what his brother said about it, Dean couldn't shake that off. He squirmed... an effect that only his own father could have on him, no one else. Then, like his dad, he looked down at his bottle, twirling it to one side and the other as it rested on his thigh.

Fuck why was this so hard? John should just be able to talk to his son - but - there were some things he just hadn't ever thought he'd need to discuss with anyone, let alone his son. "Sometimes, things happen differently than we expect them to." John cleared his throat. "Or maybe," he looked up trying to catch Dean's evasive eyes, "or maybe we do something, thinking it will be one thing ... and it turns into something else." Jesus he sounded like an idiot.

Dean's heart sank like a stone. He felt the weight of his father's gaze and tried to avoid it, but eventually obeyed the silent order, just like he always did. Those dark eyes looking at him, he wasn't sure whether they were accusing or there was something else in them, or if it was his own guilt making him feel like this. He licked his lips and gave a nod, "sometimes." He clamped down on the confession welling up at the back of his throat, forced himself to swallow it the hell back down.

Blowing out a long breath John fixed Dean with his gaze. "Okay, so ... hypothetically, say that you had the chance - for whatever reason - would you leave hunting - or do it less to go and be with your brother?"

"What?" Dean wished the ground would swallow him up. He wasn't sure what his dad was asking. Yeah he understood on the surface but there could be so many damned layers to that question if someone knew everything. He scratched the back of his head and neck, struggling to find something to say... anything. "I... no... maybe. If Sam needed me, I mean for anything." He remembered Sam clinging to him, whispering to him about coming down to Stanford, living with him there while he went to college. If it was gonna happen, maybe he needed to lay the groundwork. "But hunting is my life too, I wouldn't give it up for anything." A muscle pulsed in his jaw. "Why," he asked, almost weakly.

John looked down at his quickly warming beer. "Son, I think ... it's a good idea." He swallowed around the huge lump in his throat, the fucked up sensation of guilt mixed with disbelief and love for his boys. "I think," he looked up, brown eyes glassy in the half light from the motel room lamp, "I think you and Sam - you're good - together - you ...," he broke off, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip, 'you should take care of your brother." He nodded, more to himself than to Dean. "You should ... do what you have to do ... what Sam needs you to do." John looked away, staring at the blank t.v. screen. "Sam's a ... he's special, he needs you."

He knew. He had to know. But why was he saying this... why? It made no sense. Not to Dean. Emotions battled inside him, even fiercer than when he'd been fighting his feelings for his brother. This was his parent. The man he admired over every other person in the world. A hard man, yeah he knew that first hand. The kind that wouldn't take bullshit... wouldn't accept what he and Sam had fallen into. No way... and yet... Studying his father's profile for a moment, Dean looked away too. Did he really want an answer? Did he want to goad his father into telling him what he'd seen?

He was biting down so hard on his lip, Dean tasted blood. Raising the bottle to his lips, he swished some of the alcohol over the cut and swallowed. "He's... yeah he is special. Maybe you should be telling him this." He lapsed into silence

"Jesus, Dean, talking to you is like pullin' teeth." John threw himself back into the chair and drank the rest of his beer in a few gulps. Dean couldn't really be expecting him to actually say it. "I think you and I know what we're talkin' about here." Kicking his feet back up on the coffee table he crossed them at the ankles and stared at Dean over the toes of his boots.

Dean almost flinched at his dad's raised voice. Then his words, 'I think you know what we're talkin' about,' echoed over and over in his head, scaring the shit out of him. Maybe he should just go pick out a shot gun, give it to his dad, get it over with. When the elder Winchester turned his dark gaze on him, Dean swallowed, his hands kneaded his thighs, fingers digging into his own flesh through his jeans as he wracked his brain for something to say.

"Have I told you about Merle and Davison?"

The question jerked Dean out of his frozen state. "I think I've heard those names, but no." What the hell did Merle and Davison have to do with all this? He licked his lips. "What about them?"

"They're a couple hunters, yeah? I met them, God, years ago in Arkansas." John drifted off into his own thoughts for a few long moments. "Anyway, they're good men, good hunters, different. Every hunter has a story right? Both their families were killed ... long miserable stories ...but my point is," he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "they were different you get my meanin' son?"

Dean did his best to follow. He got it, all the way to right before the last thing his dad said, and looked up. "Different, how? Supernatural?" He had no clue what his dad was trying to say, but it was probably because he was freaking out on the inside, completely freaking out.

John pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes and held up his empty beer bottle without looking up. "Dean, could you get me a another beer? And get yourself one too." He waited until he felt the bottle leave his hand before he let his hand fall into his lap. "Different," he turned his head so Dean could hear him, " as in - together." It fell very silent in the kitchen behind him rather suddenly.

Dean's palm went flat against the door of the fridge as he used it to hold himself up. His heart slammed against his chest. Different as in together. Did that mean 'special' as in together. Of course it did. His hand slipped down the smooth surface of the door, to the handle, and he saw it was shaking. He'd known, had a gut feeling his dad had seen that night, but then he'd taken comfort in the fact it never came up. Why was his dad bringing it up now? After all this time?

He heard a sound, and realized it was his own heavy breaths. Finally, he opened the door and grabbed the two bottles, wishing he dared grab whiskey instead. But he needed to watch what he said. "Okay. They're ... different as in special." That was as close as he could get to to connecting dad's story about the hunters to himself and Sam without saying it directly. Even after he opened the bottles, he lingered for a few minutes, hidden from view.

John felt like he was going to strangle his son. He knew Dean wasn't stupid, and he knew damn well what they were talking about. At least, he thought he did. There was no way John had misinterpreted ... "Okay, Dean get yer ass in here - I feel like I'm talkin' to the wall, and I need that beer." Did he ever, if he was going to get through this at all. "Dean!"

He practically jumped at his dad's yell, and still his feet didn't want to lead him to the other room. Taking a deep breath he went back, passing the beer to his dad without looking at him and then guzzling half his bottle down in one go. He sat down, rubbed one wet palm against his thigh and looked down, lips pressed in a thin line. "I'm listening," he said eventually, just to fill the silence.

"Thanks," John ran the cool beer bottle over his forehead. "Okay - so they were together - and it was hard for them, it wasn't common knowledge or anything. I was good friends with Davison; he was a good man. But - the thing is - their lives were worse when ... before they had each other. Together, they were better, and even though they had to be careful about who found out it was good." He nodded again absent-mindedly and looked up at his oldest son. "They were good together, and they took care of each other."

Dean nodded a bit stupidly, half repeated by rote, "so you want me to take care of Sam." His eyes widened at how that had come out, like he was doing his dad a favor, like it was what his dad wanted. He shrank a little in his chair.

John put his beer down on the table and stood up. "Dean, I think you get the picture here, and I'm not going to keep going around in circles with you; I'm too tired and ... too old." He walked over and as he passed Dean squeezed his shoulder and paused. "You are a good man, you grew up good, you take good care of Sam - he's always been ... more yours than he ever was mine. You take care of him." He gave his son's shoulder a final squeeze and walked towards the bathroom, "just bring him to visit sometimes, you know? Holidays? I'm going to get ready for bed - early start tomorrow." He slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Hell - if that didn't get through to his son -nothing would -and John was not having this conversation again.

It was a long while before Dean could raise his head and look in the direction his dad had disappeared. First he'd had to process his words, put them in context, run over the other discussions. His dad had just... he'd given him the thumbs up to...

Pushing up, Dean moved to the kitchen, searched inside a cabinet, and pulled out the whiskey. Opening it, he took a couple of long swigs straight from the bottle, letting out an "ahhh," as the liquid burned all the way down to his gut. Hearing the sound of the faucet turning and water running, Dean left the bottle on the counter and rushed to get into bed. He couldn't take anymore 'conversation.'

Five minutes later, he heard his father pad to the kitchen. He heard the bottle scrape against the counter, the sound of swallows, then the shutting of the cabinet. His eyes were firmly closed by the time dad went to the bed adjacent to his. Still, he could feel the elder Winchester's eyes on him, before the man sat down on the bed, got in and shut the lights.

It was a long time before Dean could fall asleep, but when he did, he had a slight smile on his face and the weight on his shoulders seemed to have lessened.

* * *

[Spring - May 1]

This island gave Dean the heebee geebees. He'd arrived a couple days ago at the semi private island to look into the disappearances of three men over the last ten years, all of them last known to have planned to go or actually gone to the island around early May. Now that he was here, he saw that the private side of the island was inhabited by people who had one foot in the past, and one in the modern age. The women wore long dresses and had fine manners, and the men wore old fashioned clothing, everyone looking like they'd walked out of some magazine depicting the pioneers who'd gone west.

Nah, that was wrong, there was an additional underlying feel here. Though there was a small chapel, he'd seen many more pagan symbols on walls, on chains around peoples' necks, and in the books that were on public display and in use at the library. The other side of the island was much more normal. The people there were excited about the Maypole festivities to take place on the private side, but many were also reserved and hinted at the 'goings on.' From what Dean could tell the festivities involved crowning and dancing around a decorated maypole, but maybe there were other celebrations, geared more directly towards fertility rituals, that some of those living on the other side of the island felt went beyond what should be happening.

A limited number of 'tourists' were allowed and he'd talked one of the girls, a blonde named Lisle, into giving him a pass. She'd also arranged for him to get a room on the coveted private side of the island, in a bed and breakfast. He wasn't used to the luxury of the quaint room he'd been given overlooking the bay, but the price had been more than right so he'd taken it. For a girl in long skirts and hair piled high on top of her head like a schoolmistress, he'd found out that Lisle was very modern. Hell, it hadn't even been him who started the kissing session they'd had under one of the trees that had a bench under it and the only reason they'd stopped was she had to get to work. She took the ferry to the mainland and worked as a travel agent, he'd found out.

He'd snooped around, asking if anyone had seen the men whose pictures he'd shown but gotten nowhere with that. He had a feeling some people were lying but had nothing to go on yet. One of the missing men had come to the island to research the roots of those who lived here, he knew that much and had made an appointment to see the head librarian. Apparently her busy schedule prevented a meeting until at the earliest tomorrow, and he hadn't been able to track her down.

It was evening now, and this side of the island shut down early. There weren't many restaurants and only one 'tavern,' but apparently, as the maypole preparations began, it would close down early. Dean had eaten at the tiny restaurant attached to the bed and breakfast. The food was surprisingly good, so good he could have had seconds. Maybe he had overeaten a little, because he wasn't feeling that great.

Laying on the bed, looking at the old fashioned t.v. with no remote and barely any channels, he pulled his cell out and dialed his brother.

Sam flipped his phone open on the first ring. "I've been waiting for you to call me all night," Sam whined. Okay, yeah, he'd agreed to the whole wait a year thing, but he missed his brother; he missed Dean's voice, his hands, his lips, his laugh, everything. He looked forward to their phone calls more than he would ever admit to Dean. "Okay, maybe not all night. I've been reading some very dry law books. How was your day?" He shuffled around on the bed getting comfortable.

"All night, huh?" Dean glanced at his watch, it was only seven. That had him imagining Sam's bitch face and chuckling. "Better than reading dry books." He ran his hand over his face, pushing his fingers through his hair. "I'm on an island, and I swear to God, it looks like it's either 70 percent chicks, of they're hiding the men somewhere." There was a smile in his voice as he anticipated Sam's reaction and quickly added, "most of them are old... short... flat chested... nothing to write home about."

Sam huffed out a breath, "You always find one." Sam tried to keep the frown on his face and not in his voice, "When did you get there? You met anyone?" He didn't ask if Dean had met any girls, truly, he didn't want to know. He knew they'd agreed that they could be with other people, hell, Dean was still trying to talk Sam into it; he just didn't feel it for anyone else.

"Couple days. Yeah, I did... but you know, it was a way to get to stay for these ah... maypole festivities. Tickets are rare and its mostly a private island." He quickly told Sam a little about the place hoping to divert his brother from asking more questions about the girl. Even if... if he and Sam did end up together, his brother... they both would have to allow each other to charm the pants off other people, if not literally, then to get what they needed for a job. Course he expected Sam would probably take another five years of school and mostly not hunt with him, so that wouldn't be a problem. If...

"Sounds like a nice place, so this girl? She cute? What'd you have to do to get tickets?" Sam forced a playful tone into his voice. He knew Dean would give him the same speech he always did; you do what you gotta do when you're hunting. Frankly, Sam thought it was a crock.

He let out a sigh, seeing Sam was in one of his 'dog won't let go of bone' moods. "She's alright, it was just a kiss, she works a lot." Okay, he'd exaggerated, but he didn't really want an argument. "What about you, have you ah... you know, been doing what we said? Going out to meet... people?" He wished that he could wish Sam found a nice girl to settle down with, but actually feeling that way that would make him a better man than he was.

Sam pulled his knees up and switched the phone to his other hand. "Was she a good kisser? And, Dean? I've kissed you - no one kisses you once." He couldn't help grinning, his face flushing just as the thought of Dean's lips against his.

"Not as good as you, now answer my question and stop getting me horny with thoughts of kissing," he sighed and rolled onto his side, surprised by how quickly one image of Sam in his arms had sent blood surging to his groin.

Shrugging, then realizing Dean couldn't see him Sam sighed. "I ... no... well, I've been out with friends, you know. There's this hot guy who does his laundry at the same time as me every week. He's nice - he has a motorcycle." Sam scratched his nose. "So yeah, I've been meeting people." He had. It wasn't a lie. He just had no interest in them what-so-ever. Okay, the guy as the laundromat really was hot - but Sam was way too shy to ask for his number.

"Guy." Why was it easier to accept, or why did Dean think it would be easier to accept if Sam got with a woman? He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I see... and...?"

Sam flopped over onto his stomach, dropping the phone and fumbling around for it in his sheets. "Sorry ... and? the guy? I don't know - I mean, well, he told me that he will be there tomorrow if I wanted to meet him for coffee." Which Sam absolutely did not want to do. In fact, Sam had already gone and finished his laundry earlier in the day. "You got a nice room there? Big bed?" He grinned.

"Nice room, yeah. Bed's kinda small." His head spun a little, and he put his hand on the bed to keep his balance. "We'd be a tight fit. I'd be right on top of you." Christ, he wanted that... wanted it just like that, so bad his breaths were already coming out uncontrolled and shallow.

Sam swallowed and wriggled his hips a little on the bed and palmed the front of his jeans. Yeah like that guy in the laundromat stood a chance. "I ... uh ... so you think," Sam breathed into the phone for a few moments, "I should meet that guy tomorrow?"

How could he make him have to tell him' yes,' couldn't he just... Dean took a deep breath, trying to get Sam's taste out of his mind, trying not to think of being mouth to mouth on this bed with him. "I... uh... probably... you should," he forced out. "You... you never know. If anything... you know... let it happen... know how he kisses, if it feels... Oh God." He closed his mouth, trying to stifle a moan at the thought of being the one to kiss Sam.

Squeezing his eyes shut Sam took in a shuddering breath. "Maybe, I could do that thing ... that you like - when I suck on your bottom lip until it's all swollen and sensitive and then bite it...real hard." Sam's hips pressed down against his hand, pinning it to the mattress, his thoughts on Dean's body, his just-tight-enough jeans. "You think he'd like that?" Sam sucked in a breath.

There was an audible intake of Dean's breath. "I like it," he said thickly. "Pleasure and pain, and then I'm just all over you, kissing you... my lip throbs, makes me so much more aware of every touch. I push my tongue inside your mouth and baby, you just ... you know what to do, how to drive me fucking crazy." He dropped down onto the bed, feet still on the ground. "I let you tease me, play with my tongue for as long as I can, then I push you down, roll over you and hold your head in place. I ask you to 'open' for me, and then I tongue fuck you until neither of us has any breath left."

As his head spun, Dean wondered how they'd gone from talking about a potential date for Sam, to phone sex. But his body was burning, and he needed this... needed Sam, but this was the next best thing.

Sam had to struggle to get his voice to work, "Jesus, Dean...when you do that, your tongue in my mouth is the most amazing feeling." He shivered, snapping his hips against the bed fingers curling hard against his jeans. "I want you on top of me all the time, it's like you're touching me everywhere all at once and it makes me so hard, Dean, I want... I ..." Sam wiggled over onto his side, if he stayed where he was he was gonna come in his jeans like a fourteen year old. He blew out a breath, "Dean? Are you ... touching yourself?" Sam's fingers ghosted over his belly, "I am, " he almost whispered. "You know what I love Dean? When you slip your fingers under the edge of my jeans, just enough ..." Sam licked his lips and fell silent as his own long fingers slipped under the waistband of his jeans.

Dean had kept silent, listening intently, hearing Sam's voice and his own breaths, imagining the things his brother told him. "No... not touching, but fucking want to." He licked his lips. "Oh God I want to," he pressed his closed fists down against the bed. As if not touching himself was a way of taking this back, or not taking Sam down this road until the date they'd agreed. How... how had he fallen down this slippery slope?

"I like when you chase my fingers under you jeans. You don't say anything, you just... you go for it, love that about you." He rolled onto his stomach, then scrambled more fully onto the bed, his cock now trapped between his body and the mattress. "I like to stop you... hold you in one place, knowing you're dying to move... I'm dying for you to move. Oh God... I'm so hard Sammy, this was a bad idea."

"Well," Sam's voice was deeper, thick, "there's always your girl and my laundromat guy." He closed his eyes and moved the phone away from his mouth so Dean wouldn't hear the moan that was building in his chest. He popped the button on his jeans and slid his zipper down, "Jesus ..." he moaned when the pressure was finally gone. "M..m..maybe you're right - this was a bad idea." Sam slid his hand down the front of his jeans and squeezed ... hard, breath hitching in his chest before he had time to clamp his mouth shut.

He was humping the fucking bed, so he rolled over and moved his hand between his legs. "You think they'll do it for us? Sam, say my name," he begged, throwing his head back as he squeezed himself.

"Nooo," Sam moaned, fingers slipping around his hard shaft and squeezing hard, like his brother would, "I don't wanna be with...just you Dean. I know what you want me to do," Sam whined out a small sound of pleasure as he started moving his fist up and down his cock, "I can't...I just want you Dean, only you." He couldn't even touch himself these days without thinking about Dean, it was beyond him how Dean thought he was gonna go out and pick up some guy. Sam squeezed his eyes shut again, picture his brother's strong body, sweat slick and lit by firelight. "I want... I would..." Sam stopped moving his hand, catching his breath, "I want you in mouth, I think about sucking you off Dean, all the time, I love the taste of you, like winding my tongue around you, taking you so far in my throat," he moaned softly fist full of bed sheets. "Would you like that Dean?"

"Oh God... oh God Sammy... fuck yeah, want you so bad, want--"

A sharp knock on the door whacked the breath out of Dean. "Gotta go, this might be about the librarian," he panted into the phone, tossing it on the bed. "Just a minute."

Sitting up, he straightened his clothes and tried to regain control over his body. "Come in," he said, after taking a book and holding it in his lap.

"Hello, I came to tell you Ms. Simpson will see you tomorrow morning, promptly at ten."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "Ah... you got any aspirin? One of my bags went missing on the ferry."

"You do look flushed. We call it May fever around these parts," she gave him a secret smile. "It's all the preparations for the fertility dances... people from the main island don' t believe, but some, like you, are sensitive to the vibes."

"Vibes... right." If she had Sam on the other end of a phone, she'd be getting the same damned vibes.

"Also, at one o'clock, you need to be sure to be at the maypole. One lucky man will be selected to be crowned."

"Nah, I'm not... count me out."

"All single males must participate or..."

"Or?"

"Or you won't be welcomed. Allowed. You have to respect our ways," she said firmly. "One o'clock. If you're anywhere else on the island at that time, everyone will know to drive you to the maypole. It's all in good fun. Here's your water, and if you want anything else, the kitchen is still open" Turning, she walked out.

"Fun..." Dean groaned. "Gotta fucking pull myself together."

All single males? Sam sat up. He suddenly had a really bad feeling about everything, wanted Dean to be somewhere else, anywhere. "Dean?" he called into the phone. Sam couldn't hear a thing, he sat with the phone pressed to his ear for ages, he had no idea what had happened. Maybe Dean thought he'd hung up and wandered off. Maybe... Sam didn't like it at all. Eventually the call disconnected. He called Dean back three times, probably more, left messages, texts. Nothing. After an hour, Sam's gut feelings got the better of him, he dug out his duffel and started packing.


	2. Chapter 2

After talking to the librarian and getting nothing out of her but deciding he'd return to snoop around once the festivities started, Dean walked around the small town asking questions. He started feeling sick again. like last night. A little dizzy and his mind wasn't working just right. He went over everything he'd done. He'd stopped back at the bed and breakfast for a sandwich and drink, that's when this started. He'd felt this way after dinner last night too, could it be something in the food?

Nah, he had to be coming down with something. Wasn't like he was laid out or anything. He leaned against a tree, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass, and saw a woman holding a basked of flowers. His eyes lingered on the exposed part of her breasts, then lingered on her hips. His breaths started to come in shallow gasps. When she looked at him and waved, he called to her to come, but she just walked away.

He blew out a breath of air and told himself to get it together.

Only he couldn't. It got worse. The spinning. The hearing things in echoes... like groups passing him, laughing... he felt like he was disconnected... slurring when he tried to ask for help. They just laughed at him, let him stagger around, looked at him like he was a drunk.

"Help..."

"You need to be at the maypole," someone told him, shoving him in the right direction. He almost fell, recovered and walked on. It was a little while before he realized he was being pushed and shoved, like a steer being herded. Women would come link their arms in his, spin him around, then push him, encourage him to get where he belonged. He didn't understand half of what they said. He tried to grab them, to explain... and sometimes just to touch them because he was burning up with something... needing something.

The next thing he knew, he was in front of a tall white pole decorated with ribbons and flowers. Someone shoved his back against it. He looked at the audience... they were laughing and clapping as someone announced he was _the one_... he would be crowned. No, no Goddamit, something was wrong. He tried to push away, but felt too weak and was shoved back.

A woman in a long robe raised her hands up to the skies and started saying stuff, about earth and bounty, he couldn't get much more. Then a straw crown was shoved on his head, a band with wheat sheaves or something. He tried to pull it off, but a group of women took him by the arms, surrounded him. He heard them tell the crowd that the king would be back later... after he performed his duties. There was laughter and clapping.

It was only as he was taken into the woods that he realized the crowd had been made up only of the people from the private part of the island. Others were just filtering in now... he could tell from their clothes. "Let me go..." he tried to shove, but a woman's hot lips pressed against his and he moaned with need. Before he could push his tongue in her mouth, he was pulled away and then it felt like a hundred hands grabbed him, carrying him over their heads.

The sky... the ground... the people... _No. Need to snap out of this... need to..._

They reached a clearing. He made out a maypole. Another one. He couldn't even ask a question before he was dropped down, made to lay down under it, his arms above his head, his wrists tied around the pole. "What... what are you doing..."

His vision blurred. He swore he saw women tearing their clothes off. Saw them grabbing the ends of the ribbons tied the pole, dancing around him in circles... singing, gyrating their hips, swinging and bouncing their breasts.

Lisle dropped down next to him. He was glad to see her. Tried to ask her to help him. Couldn't understand what she meant when she said he was going to give her... all of them ... babies... that everything would be fine. Then she was stripping him, and he was getting hard, so hard each time her hand brushed over his cock. _No... no Goddamit... he wasn't doing this. What the fuck had they drugged him with?_ "No... fuck you... no..."

"You won't be saying that for long," she answered, standing up and taking her own clothes off... slowly... with the other naked women still circling, making him feel like he was on some merry-go-round. He was screwed... big time.

* * *

It had taken Sam a lot of time, energy and money to get to the Island and now he felt like he was looking for a needle in a haystack. More specifically, it felt like he was looking for Dean on an Island that seemed to be suspiciously over-populated with women. Taking no chances, Sam kept himself hidden; it made his journey in-land slower but he couldn't risk being seen if his bad-gut-feeling was _right_. Dean hadn't called him back, wasn't answering his phone and Sam was worried.

He moved in a half crouch, wearing his backpack and watching carefully through the trees. There was a central store that seemed to be a kind of meeting place for a lot of the women. Sam had figured out a route to get close to the side entrance; close enough, he hoped, to hear some of the conversations. The worst part was crossing the path in front of the store, Sam watched and timed his leap with the door to the store slamming shut and he was across. He sat the in underbrush for a few minutes, calming his breathing then crept as close as he could to the picnic table on the side of the store.

Sam didn't have to wait long, soon there were three woman at the table with drinks. He crept as close as he could then settled on to the ground and relaxed so he could hear as much as possible.

"...and it went quite smoothly all things considered. They'll be there now, getting him _warmed_ up" she was brunette, curvy and dark-skinned, wiggling her eyebrows lasciviously as the other women collapsed into laughter. Sam's blood started to run cold in his veins. He'd read as much as he could on his way to the island. The Beltane ritual was a traditional Wiccan ceremony and _should_ have been a beautiful celebration. In ancient times it was a fertility ritual symbolizing the meeting of the masculine and feminine. Everything in Sam's being told him that the delicate balance had been thrown off on this island somehow, call it instinct, but there was something _very_ wrong with this ritual.

"Will we miss anything?" the second woman was younger, long black curls framing her face, " I just have to pop by my house and grab my flowers ... I am _so_ excited. It's my first Beltane as an adult."

"Nothing will begin until we're all accounted for," began the third woman, Sam felt an instant dislike for her; the tone of her voice grated on his nerves and his lip curled up in distaste - "and I have seen this year's offering - he is _delightful_." She smiled and licked her lips, "more than capable I think and he's going to make the most delightful sounds. If you run over soon enough you'll see the cleansing ritual - it's begun already, they're be _teasing_ him a little - it's usually quite a show."

They laughed, rosy cheeked and happy and Sam realized he was clenching his teeth so hard it hurt.

"So, tell me," the youngest woman spoke again, "you think he will be enough for everyone? You know?" she blushed, "I've heard rumors that some of the men aren't up to the task, that many of us will not be blessed." She looked worried, a small frown crinkling her brow.

The woman Sam disliked the most answered. "Oh no, I've seen this one, well built, beautiful face, green eyes - smattering of freckles - over six feet tall. Probably the best offering we've had in generations. He's also been helped along by the glory of magic " She leaned closer to the other women and stage whispered, "he's been hard for an hour already." They threw their heads back laughing and began packing up their bags. "I've even heard suggestion that he has a younger brother. How marvelous would _that_ be in a few years?"

The woman with the black curls stood and stretched, "we should be going - we'll meet you there."

Sam's heart was thundering in his chest and he was shaking with the anger that was coursing through his body. They had Dean and he needed to get to wherever they were going. Sam waited until the women were out of ear shot then scrambled through the brush following at a safe distance. He was nervous about losing them, and a couple of times he thought he had but when he stopped long enough to calm his breathing he could hear their voices up ahead. He crawled, scrambled and crouched his way along behind them, branches scratching across his face and hands. Stopping only to listen and redirect himself it was slow going for Sam but soon enough, he could hear the faint sounds of singing, interspersed with the ringing of laughter and the strangest music he'd ever heard.

* * *

Yet another half naked woman sat on him, grinding her ass over his already too hard cock. Dean tried to focus on her face... she blurred in and out. He felt her hand on his cheek, then her mouth against his. Felt her kissing him... knew she tasted like peanut butter. He tried to move his face away, but he raised his hips, needing to ease the ache... needing it so fucking bad, even though he didn't want her ... didn't want any of them.

He bit her, tasted blood, spat out, "crazy bitch... let me go..." Her slap knocked his head back, but he welcomed it. Wanted, needed something to bring him focus, to snap him out of this. Groaning, he felt her lift off him... then it was back to seeing the women circle him.

A woman bent down and cupped his cock. All he could see was she had red hair in long curls.

"May you be bountiful... may you fill our bellies with seed and may it grow."

He only understood bits of what she said, and was shaking his head back and forth. He tried desperately to work on the ropes at his wrists, but his dexterity was gone. Then another woman was next to him, her hands all over him. He writhed, "please... please... bitch!" he shouted as she laughed and left him.

Sam swore quietly under his breath and it took every ounce of control he had not to leap out of the bushes and start throwing punches. Dean's cries and yells were killing him, each one stabbing into his heart but he knew that heading in too early would accomplish nothing. Creeping closer, almost silently, he tried to listen, understand what was going on. The circle of woman seemed to be widening. They were still darting in and rubbing over Dean's cock, grabbing his arms, brushing their fingers over his lips - every movement made Sam want to punch something.

He was worried, had no idea what state Dean was in, he couldn't see his face clearly but he didn't like what he could see. The women began to whisper; a message passing around the circle; almost like a children game, they whirled past each other, linking arms for a moment, leaned in to kiss and then a whisper passed between them. As the circle widened away from Dean, the women passed closer to Sam and he began to hear bits and pieces of the whispering, _ocean_ , two of the women passed so closely that Sam could smell the scent of the flowers in their hair. _cleanse_. The circle widened again and small groups of woman began to peel off and dance back down the path. _Time to cleanse in the ocean._ Sam rose up into a crouch, watching as the women left, painfully slow.

The circle unwound, Dean was arching up off the ground, yelling out and it was killing Sam. He moved slightly closer - eye on the last women leaving the circle and as soon as the last of the dresses and flowers disappeared down the path Sam bolted out of the bushes and ran straight across the clearing sliding to a halt on his knees by his brother. "Dean?" His hands grabbed Dean's cheeks and turned his head, "are you okay?" Sam was shaking, Dean's face was tear stained, his eyes wide and his pupils dark and wide. His skin was flushed and ruddy, his gaze a million miles away. "Dean?" Sam rubbed his thumb over his brother's lip.

He was hallucinating. It was just another one of the women, but Dean didn't care. "Please, please ... " His chest rose and fell as he twisted his body around, trying to touch 'Sam.' "Can't... can't leave me like this..." He struggled against the damned bindings, blinking... trying to separate reality from the hallucinations.

"S'okay Dean - I'm here," Sam scrambled down to Dean's feet, yanked his knife out of his leg holster and cut through the bindings holding Dean's ankles. He rubbed Dean's ankles quickly, checking to see if he was badly injured; he was bloody, his skin torn but nothing permanent. Crawling back up to Dean's head Sam leaned over him and cut his wrists free, pulled his tattered pants up and buttoned them. "come on Dean, can you walk?"

"Sam... really you?" He stretched his hands out, feeling Sam's face, arguing with himself about whether this was the real deal or not. "Drug... don't know what it is.... oh God." He grit his teeth against the ache between his legs and used Sam to try to stand, but was unable. "Go... get help- but go. Nuts... crazy..." he said, weakly shoving his brother.

"Okay," Sam grabbed Dean's hair and stared into his eyes, "Dean, we don't have _time_ for that, they are coming back." He leaned in and kissed Dean quickly - trying to bring him back to reality. "Dean. You need to get the _fuck_ up and we need to move." Sam was frantic, he had no idea how long the women would be gone. "Okay - how about just to the trees over there Dean, can you do that if I help you? What do you need?"

"Need..." He was breathing hard, waves of lust hitting him, then receding. "Trees ... okay..." He put his arm over Sam's shoulder letting him bear most of his weight and stumbling along. With every step, he lost a little more of his control. "Can't... Sam..." Using the last of his strength, he threw himself into his brother's arms and started to grind his erection into him, mindless, blind... unable to really see or understand where they were, driven only by need. "Please... don't be like them... please."

"God, Dean.." Sam stumbled and nearly fell under his brother's weight, _fuck_ "Dean, what did they give you? Don't be like who?" Sam scrambled backwards and pulled Dean with him as far into the cover of the trees as he could manage. "Okay Dean, S'okay" Sam swore under his breath and pulled Dean close to him squeezing his eyes shut. He had no idea what to do, he couldn't get Dean anywhere in this state. Panic started to well up inside Sam's chest, he leaned down and kissed Dean's lips softly, pulling away and whispering. "Dean, I need some help here. I can't get us out of here alone."

"More... more Goddamit," he tried to press closer, understanding what Sam wanted but hardly able to comply. "Can't... can't think of anything but..." He could tell Sam wasn't getting it and groaned, burying his face in his brother's throat. "Hand..." he put his out and felt Sam place his hand in his palm. Dragging Sam's hand down to his own painful groin, he managed. "Really. Need. To. Fuck."

Sam moaned softly and threaded his fingers through Dean's hair. "Jesus Christ, Okay- Dean you need to listen to me." Sam tugged his hand away from the hard line in Dean's pants. "Listen! I swear Dean - I will give you what you want - I swear to God or whoever - that everything you want - but we gotta get out of here. I can help you but I can't carry you the entire way to the boat." Sam pushed Dean up hauling his arm up over his shoulder, "let's go - remember the last deal we made Dean? This one's even more important - I swear you get to the boat - you get whatever you need? Okay?" Sam started to half drag, half carry Dean into the trees.

"Deal.. always deals..." he said, gripping Sam's arm, half helping, half hindering their process. It was so hard to put one leg in front of the other, so hard when his mind and body were focused on one thing, one burning need. He almost fell over a tree root, his knee hitting the ground before Sam had him up again. He tried to see where they were going, to gage the distance. "Can't."

But his brother wasn't listening, only forcing him to keep going. "Find a place... please ... find a place." His entire body had grown warm with fever, and he knew that there was only one form of relief for this, just one.

"It's not much farther, Dean" Sam lied through his teeth, but he figured with the state dean was in he wouldn't know a five minute stroll from a one hour hike. "Come on bro, you can do this - and then you get me, whatever you want Dean - still yours - always yours." Sam kept muttering to Dean, kissing his temple from time to time, picking him up when he fell, sweat pouring down his back, hair plastered to his forehead. Sam had never been more relieved than when he started to see the patches of blue that started to appear through the trees.

As they approached the store that Sam had passed earlier - Sam could hear the women. He slammed Dean to the ground underneath him and whispered frantically for him to be quiet. The singing grew louder, the women would be within earshot soon.

As Sam's weight pressed into him, Dean groaned and started rolling Sam over, single-mindedly fucking into him, one hand cupping Sam's head with his fingers curled around his hair, the other digging into his brother's shoulder. "Clothes off... oh God..." he couldn't shut up, he knew he had to, knew he was putting his brother in danger, but he couldn't. A shout was welling up in his throat, refusing to stay put. "Sa--"

Sam shoved back and slammed his mouth down onto his brother's, pushing his tongue into the hot wetness of Dean's mouth. _God_ Sam's heart just about stopped, even in the middle of this mess, Dean's lips could just bring Sam to the brink of losing it in an instant. He slanted his mouth, moaning softly and opened his mouth wide, letting Dean in, swallowing the moans and soft sounds that were coming from his brother. Sliding his hand down over Dean's chest Sam slipped his fingers under Dean's waistband, listening to the crescendo of voices building around them. His long cool fingers grazed over the head of Dean's cock, _God_ everywhere Sam touched on his brother was hot, _too hot_ feverish. Withdrawing his hand he ground his palm into Dean's crotch, sucking his brother's tongue deep into his mouth.

Finally. Dean couldn't stop his sounds of pleasure, but Sam muffled them and it would have to be enough, because there wasn't a damned thing he could do to control his body. He almost cried when he felt Sam's fingers closed around his shaft, then again when Sam withdrew his hand. He started to fight his brother, but then Sam was helping him again.

Lifting his hips, he fucked against Sam's palm, his tongue weaving in and out of his brother's mouth, penetrating him deeply, tangling and battling, tasting... recognizing Sam. _Yes, oh yes. Don't stop Sammy, don't leave me like this._ Time stood still, his world tilted. All Dean knew was that Sam was with him, helping him, giving him what he needed. For a while, it was enough, rubbing against him and kissing, but eventually he stopped being interested in foreplay. "Need..." he said against Sam's mouth, his fingers digging into Sam. "Now."

The women linked hands and headed away, chattering about it being time to have their bellies blessed.

Sam groaned and yanked his mouth away from Dean's, his own body humming with desire; he panted in and out for a few moments, forehead pressed against his brother's, "Dean, you're killin' me", he murmured against scalding, wet, lips. Fingers tightening in Dean's short hair, Sam stared into his brother's glazed eyes; "Come on," he growled, "just a little further." Slapping his hands into the white gauzy material of the shirt the women had given his brother, Sam yanked him up to his feet; frantic, scared he realized that Dean was almost too far gone to help him.

He was killing Sam? No Sam was killing him, not letting have what he needed, teasing him like the others. "Why you doing this?" Dean asked. "Dying... need you," he grit his teeth as another wave of white hot need ripped through him and he had to plaster himself against Sam, bucking against his hip. "Please," he begged in a dry sob, legs stationary and refusing to be dragged another step.

Eyes wide and searching, Sam listened to the sounds of the women disappearing along the path. If they followed the winding ceremonial path Sam and Dean _maybe_ had twenty minutes to get away. Each moment that Dean fought him was precious time lost. "Okay, Dean," Sam mumbled, "last little bit. Bending over he hauled Dean up by his arm and threw him over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He staggered forward, got his balance and started down the hill. It felt like ten miles. Sam's legs were aching, Dean was writhing on his shoulder, hands crawling over Sam's body with a desperation that made Sam's heart ache.

"Need. Need. Need..." Dean repeated like a mantra as he tried to twist out of Sam's hold, and when he couldn't, he tried to get the pressure he needed to relieve the fires in his body. He groped at Sam's back, used it to pull his lower body closer, tried like hell to wrap his leg around Sam's waist. His body was sluggish, not obeying his commands... he knew what to do, how to fuck against Sam, but getting there was another story. "Hate you... hate..." he sobbed as his cock slid against Sam's ribs then lost the pressure again. "Bitch..."

They made slow progress. Sam's exhausted muscles were shuddering under the strain of carrying his brother and it certainly didn't help that Dean couldn't stay still. Twice Dean's lust-driven contortions knocked Sam off balance and they ended up crumpled on the ground. It took everything Sam had to power up and keep going.

When they finally reached the dock, Dean was a mess and Sam was exhausted, aching and sore. He eased Dean down into the boat and pried his brothers fingers off his arms. "Gimme ... a few .... seconds," Sam panted, staggered back across the dock and jumped down into the island's only other boat,. Yanking out his knife again, he used it to cut some ropes holding extra oars together. Then he took the oars and spares, and dropped them into the depths of the water. 

"Sonovabitch... fuck you," writhing on the bottom of the boat, with nothing at all to help ease the ache between his legs, Dean looked up at the sky, and cursed his brother. He moved his hand, trying to find his cock, but it landed first on his stomach, then on his thigh. He had no idea where they were, and kept thinking Sam just let him. Then he'd hear his brother's voice or a sound and it would either anger or reassure him for a few seconds. He groaned, trying to turn over with no success.

Half crawling back across the dock, Sam slid down into the bottom of his boat landing half on Dean. He groaned and dragged his tired body up onto the seat and settled Dean at the _opposite_ end of the boat; out of the way so he could pulled the rope off the dock and grab the oars. He pulled back hard on the oars and the boat glided out from the dock. He just needed to get them out of sight, far enough away to buy some time, rest, get himself together. As far as Sam knew, there was no other boat on the island; even if there were it would be far enough away that he had time to get Dean to safety. _If his brother co-operated a little._ He set up a rhythm, drawing back on the oars, speaking softly to Dean and letting his brother know he was still there.

How could he do this to him? Make him think they could fuck, lay on him and then make him sit up... alone?. Dean's hands gripped the bottom of the chair or bench or... he didn't even know, his gaze focusing only on Sam sitting across from him... too far. He felt the wind in his face, across his chest. It should cool him, should ease the burning, but it didn't. His skin was hypersensitive and it made it worse, teasing him, make the few clothes he wore rub against him.

He started pulling at his clothes, eyes burning.... staring at Sam, staring at what was being denied to him, what could make all of this better. He lurched forward suddenly, hands clawing at Sam's shoulders. Somehow he managed to straddle his brother's legs and slid forward, groaning at the still too light contact between their bodies but recognizing ... craving more of the rhythmic movements Sam was making against him. He whispered hotly against Sam's ears. "Don't... don't deny me," arching, trying to get the comfort, the relief he needed, that seemed so impossible.

 _God_ , Sam was not going to make it. He was tired, aching, exhausted, half insane with worry, and on top of all that his brother had made his cock so hard he thought he was going to explode. "Dean ... wait... please .... " Sam moaned leaning in to his brother, then pulling away as he rowed. "Just a little longer." It was so hard to resist the urge to slip his arms around Dean and crush up against him; they'd been apart so long, only talking on the phone and now he had a lap full of _fuckin' hot_ and at least ten more minutes of rowing before they were out of sight around the edge of the bay.

On the next back row, Sam shuffled his hips forward adjusting under Dean, letting out a small groan. Dean was so hard that even through both their jeans, Sam could feel him throbbing, twitching and ... _fuck_ just a little more rowing. "Tell me, Dean," Sam ground his hips against his brother's the leaned back and pulled hard on the oars. The boat jolted forwards and Dean fell closer to his brother. Sam buried his face in Dean's neck, "tell me what you want, soon as we stop Dean, all yours." He rowed back.

Dean made an unintelligible sound as Sam moved against him, his hips raising up to give Dean relief in a too-slow rhythm that almost maddened Dean. Why was he asking what he needed, Goddammit Sam knew, he knew what he wanted. "Harder... faster... need..." Frenzied, Dean bit down hard on the flesh at the juncture of Sam's neck and shoulder, rubbing his body up hard against Sam. His brother jerked under him, their groins colliding harder, spreading white hot heat through Dean. "That..." he insisted, moving his face, finding Sam's mouth and shoving his tongue inside wet hot heat. This is what he wanted... this...

"I know, Dean," Sam was almost whining, every foot they traveled through the water cost Sam dearly in sanity. It was probably the most difficult thing he'd ever done; withholding himself from Dean - it was the opposite of what came naturally to Sam. He grabbed Dean's shoulder quickly once, yanking him against his mouth, thrusting his tongue deep into Dean's warmth. _Fuck_ they needed to get somewhere fast. Pressing his brother's face into his neck, Sam glanced around. Ahead of them was another smaller island, about halfway to the mainland. If Sam could get them there they'd be safe long enough for him to try and ... help ... Dean somehow. "Hold onto me, dean, just hold on," which was a ridiculous thing to say, Dean has been stuck to him like a limpet since they got in the boat. The problem was Sam couldn't say _no_ anymore, it was breaking his heart. When he could he rowed, when he couldn't because Dean was crushed too tightly, too wantonly against him, then he took his brother's mouth to distract them both.

"No... no more waiting... not more, hurts... Sam hurts..." he explained in spurts and gasps, clinging to his brother, using his thighs to keep them together, throwing his weight against him, his fingers clutching, showing him how desperate he was, even his lips clinging to his brothers, hardly allowing any room between them except when Sam would move. Every time Sam moved away, Dean's cries were a little more desperate, a little more pained. His hand found its way under Sam's shirt. He clawed at his chest. "Let me... let me..." Tied-up in a wave of endless lust, he hardly knew where he was going or coming, but he recognized Sam's taste, recognized his scent... felt betrayed. "Why...why won't you help... why Sammy..." he was going out of his head, he was going to die, his heart was pounding so fucking fast now.

Sam rowed so hard, the bow of the boat shot up sandy beach, metal grinding and knocking Dean onto his back in the bottom of the boat. Sam took advantage of his moment of freedom to half jump and half tumble out of the boat onto the beach. Feet scrabbling for hold in the sand he dragged the boat further up the shore until it was relatively well hidden behind an outcropping of rock.

Dean's groan resembled a sob. There was cursing too, but his words were slurred. Blindly, he searched for someone... something to touch, to hold... anything that might help him.

Bending over, resting his hands on his thighs Sam tried to catch his breath, "Dean, I'll be there in a second..." he panted, his heart and soul desperate to take his brothers pain away. Stumbling back to the boat he leaned in and yanked Dean up by his shirt, crashing their lips together and sucked hard on Dean's bottom lip. "Come with me, Dean, want you..." Sam murmured against his brother's mouth, "always want you Dean, _so much._." Dean fell over the side of the boat landing on Sam knocking him down. The breath whooshed out of Sam and he gasped in a lungful of air just before their mouths were smashing together again. It was hard and wet, and their teeth clicked together, Sam hooked his fingers through the belt loops on his brothers pants and pushed them a few feet up the beach with his feet, dragging Dean with him.

At first Dean thought he was being punished. Thrown away. Tossed aside. Then he focused. Sam... he was under him. And then they were kissing, wild and hot and just the way he needed, even though Sam was still pushing him around, dragging him by his clothes. He lifted up a little, breathing hard, his blood pounding in his ears, his cock so hard it was beyond painful. "Stay..." he ground out through gritted teeth, bringing his mouth down again over Sam's, refusing to allow him to slip away one more time.

Mindlessly, he groped Sam, tearing at his clothes, ripping them off. He was humping against Sam's thigh or maybe it was his hip, he wasn't sure. He wanted, needed his clothes off, but didn't know where to start. Each time he tried to get his clothes off, he lost the hard contact he needed with Sam and it was just unbearable. "Help me... get clothes off, Sam, what is this... what did they do?" he asked, knowing it was all wrong.

"Dean, I don’t know," Sam pushed at Dean's chest with most of his strength and bought himself enough time to tug his shirt up and off. Letting out a cry of frustration when Dean's body crashed into him again, Sam shot his leg out, hooked it over Dean's and shoved hard, throwing Dean over onto his back. Straddling his brothers crotch, Sam wiggled closer and tore Dean's shirt open then fell down onto him, fingers scratching down his brother sweat soaked skin, mouth following them, kissing and biting and licking.

Sam dragged himself away, rolling his hips forward, grinding them against the hard bulge in his brother's jeans then slid back quickly and popped the button and dragged the zipper down. Slipping his hand down the opening Sam palmed his brother's stiffness, _so hard,_ , "Come on , need your jeans off man..." For the first time Sam was getting _truly_ ready to kill his brother.

Dean's hand clamped over Sam's, pushing down harder as he arched up. "Hot... so hot..." he was on fire. "Get it off me Goddammit," he ordered, his hand still pressing over Sam's, unwilling to lose even a second of contact. "Jeans off... off," he forced his eyes open, his brother's face blurred but sometimes coming into focus. He seemed angry. He touched the furrows at Sam's brow then stopped fighting him. Letting go, completely, he tried to internalize the pain, the overwhelming lust... sounds breaking from him as he writhed but fought the need to seek Sam's help to find release.

Tugging hard, Sam managed to yank his brother's jeans down and lift his hips enough to remove them. Panting, he stopped by Dean's bare feet for one long and intense moment, then pushed himself up and unbuttoned his jeans sliding them down his slender hips. Pushing his sweaty hair back off his forehead he dropped to his knees and crawled back up besides Dean's body. "Okay, here Dean," he fell down heavily against his brother's side. Reaching out he grabbed Dean's chin and turned his head capturing his lips, "all yours bro." His tongue danced over Dean's lips, "love you," he murmured.

"What took you so long?" Dean messily fitted his mouth over Sam's, battling his tongue for a second, long enough to push his own into the depths of Sam's mouth. Moaning, he cupped Sam's face and grabbed his shoulder as he rolled over on top of him. Skin to skin, hot flesh under him, Sam's mouth working against his, his hands holding him close, holding him tight. "Oh God," he muttered as he shifted his body, bringing his leg between Sam's thighs, fucking against him, both of their cocks trapped between their bodies, rubbing against Dean like two branding irons.

Groaning into Dean's mouth Sam clawed at his brother's back. His body was on fire, Dean's flesh was so hot it felt like it would burn him; he only knew that his hips thrusting up into Dean's felt good, hard, painful, good. Every muscles and joint in Sam's body protested but he couldn't stop, couldn't pull away from Dean even if he wanted to.

They rocked against each other, sounds breaking from Dean... some of pleasure, some of more need. They rolled. Hard stones dug into his back, but he didn't give a damn. Cool water touched him, but his flesh was so hot, it probably just steamed off him. Dean was aggressive, and pushy, and maybe he sometimes had no idea how he was holding Sam, or if was too tight, or if he hurt him, but he knew who he was with, knew this was what he wanted on a level that went beyond the pure physical needs manifesting themselves. 

Small bursts of pain mixed with the absolute need Sam had for his brother and emotion rolled up through his chest. Hissing out a breath when their bodies hit the water, Sam swore into Dean's mouth. "Dean," he tore his mouth from his brother's, riding his brother from thigh to hips. Throwing himself down against Dean's chest, Sam grabbed Dean's arms and bit down hard on Dean's neck, sucking and licking, teasing his brother's fiery skin.

It felt like Sam had been waiting forever to have his brother's rough hands on him again; but this was a harder Dean, careless, rough - Sam was struggling to hold on.

The bite had Dean arching off the ground, centering him. "Ungh," he lifted his head, finding Sam's mouth again. His arms were momentarily pinned but he fought harder, got free and pushed Sam onto his back again. A wave of water rippled around them, bathing Sam's hair, and receding. His knee sank into the wet sand as he tried to get closer, ground harder, almost as if he was in a complete trance. "Yeah... yes... fuck... "

The water washed up over Sam, leaving him momentarily deaf - focusing his body on Dean's hands, his legs, his cock. The wave washed back and Sam's hair was plastered to his face, Dean's body plastered to his skin, everywhere. Sam tried to just relax, let himself be moved around by the water, by his brother. He was so tired, and just wanted Dean to touch him, hold him, didn't care how or why.

Suddenly even this wasn't enough and Dean pushed Sam, rolled him over onto his stomach. Heard him cough and quickly grasped a handful of hair to lift Sam's face up out of the water, even as he ground his cock against Sam's firm ass. "Need. To. Fuck." He managed to line himself up, managed to pull Sam's head up again when the next wave came, covering both their bodies for a moment, then he forced his knees under Sam's thighs, one hand on the ground, pushing himself inside, needing it so bad, so bad he couldn't think of anything but the fire racing through his veins, his body's absolute need. "Unh .. unh... unh..." he started to fuck Sam hard, groaning as Sam clenched around him. "Tight... good," he tried to tell his brother what he was feeling, but could barely think beyond his next thrust, and the next.

Everything happened so quickly, Sam thought for a minute he was going to drown and then Dean was yanking his head up by his hair leaving him coughing and gasping for breath. Sam's brain let go of his body then. Dean was suddenly forcing his way into Sam, and _fuck_ it hurt; months had passed since he'd been with Dean and that was Sam's first and only time. Then the water washed over them, cooling Sam's abused flesh, his muscles relaxed, his body drew Dean in. The sharp pain, gave way to a dull burning, and then Sam's pleasure started to build again. Time was lost to Sam, the waves, his brother inside him, he shoved himself back against Dean, trying to push up onto his knees, choking occasionally on a mouth full of water. He tried to get his hands on the ground, rocks dug into his palms.

Dean was vaguely aware he must be hurting Sam, but the lust flooding through his system burned away all other thoughts and needs, everything else was irrelevant. It had to be pure instinct that allowed him to at least keep Sam from drowning, but beyond that, Dean had no control. His brother's whimpers egged him on. Drawing himself out, he pushed back inside Sam and started to thrust, harder, faster, deeper, pounding into him with wild abandon.

As Dean rode his battered and sore body, Sam's fingers grasped and released handfuls of sand and rocks. Trying to match Dean's thrusts was almost impossible; Sam surrendered to it all, simply letting Dean fuck into him, over and over, so _hard_ everything in Sam ached for more.

He lost all sense of time, had no idea how long he'd been abusing Sam like this. "Sammy, I'm sorry," he whispered near his ear, still hard, still desperately moving inside his brother. "Gonna come now." Somehow, he rocked back, pulling Sam up, allowing Sam to hold himself up out of the water. His hand free to release Sam's hair now roamed over his body and then closed in fist around Sam's cock. He started to pump him, had and fast, to same rhythm they were fucking, and then every cell in his body was screaming to come. "Sam!" his voice was raw, broken, his body stiffening, balls drawing painfully up against his body as he came hard, exploding deep inside Sam, depositing ropes of hot cum inside him, his fingers digging into Sam's shoulder as wave after wave of his climax hit him.

Sam's voice was rough, almost silent, and all that he could manage to say was "Dean," over and over. _Anything for his brother._ When Dean manhandled him up into his arms, Sam's head fell back, shivers running down his spine, skin tingling from the heat of his brother's flesh under the cool water. His hips lurched forward into Dean's fist, craving release, needing _more_. The breath was whooshing out of Sam's body each time his brother's cock thrust into him, hard, fast, desperate. Sam's lithe body twisted, his mouth frantically searching for Dean's, and when his brother called out his name Sam's mouth was there to swallow it. Hair plastered to his ruddy cheeks, Sam moaned.

The throbbing of Dean's cock in Sam's tightly clenched ass sent him over the edge. His hips thrust wildly into Dean's hand, knees digging into the sand, mouth licking and sucking at his brother's. He bit down hard on Dean's bottom lip as his own orgasm spiraled up through his body. Sam let the full weight of his body fall back against his brother's chest and thighs; he cried out his muscles clenching around Dean. Just as he felt Dean's hot come filling him, pulsing into his body, his body let go. Sam's cock throbbed, long, hard, slick come hitting his chest, Dean's hand and the water all around. Fingers burned into Sam's shoulders, Dean pinned them together ... marking him... Sam gasped out a final cry.

He stayed like that, gripping his brother, kissing him, grinding his hips into him, grinding their mouths together, until he started to feel the cool waves lapping at them, slowly easing the terrible need he'd lived with for hours. As he came to himself, he grew gentle, touching Sam lovingly, easing out of him, turning him around in his arms, murmuring. "Love you Sam. Didn't mean to hurt you..." he'd tasted blood, he knew it was his brother's. He could see the bruises of his fingerprints on Sam, knew from the way Sam could barely answer that he'd fucked him senseless, that he'd be hurting for days. "Sorry... so fucking sorry," he said hoarsely, rocking his brother in his arms, holding him close, wishing anyone but Sam had found him in that state. "Sorry, baby..."

The lighter touches, the whispering, sweet words all brought Sam back to the beach. He curled into Dean's chest, tasting his own tears, blood and sand. He tried to push his hair back out of his eyes as he struggled to get as close to Dean as he could. Nuzzling into his brother's neck Sam started to shiver a little, he pressed his swollen, aching lips to Dean's neck and kissed him. "Y..y..you better...?" Sam whispered against his brother's skin. It was more of a plea than a question. His arms snaked around his brother's neck slowly, his body protesting every move, "b..better."

"Think so." Dean blinked. "Can't see real well... blurry still." He brushed his mouth over Sam's temple, held him like that. "Gave me some kinda ... trip." He took a couple breaths. "I could have... drowned you... got you caught." As the realizations hit him one by one, his stomach churned with cold fear. Blindly, he dragged Sam away from the water, scooting back on the sand and the stones. "How... how did you know, to come? How..."

Sam sniffed and shifted so he was resting more comfortably across Dean's warmth. "The phone call, you s..s..sounded wrong... drunk; not like you. And the woman - I heard her talking to you. Sam's fingers curled through the hair on the back of Dean's neck, "I knew w..w..where you were and... men missing. Got a bad feeling. Sorry, took me so long to get here." Sam was covered in goose bumps, the heat of their love-making slowly wearing off. "M'cold Dean...Need my shirt."

He was still flushed, his skin feeling so warm he couldn't stand the thought of clothes. "Where?" He looked around and saw something bluish on the sand near them. Crawling toward it, with Sam still draped over him, he grabbed what felt like a shirt and tee shirt entangled together, and brought it back. "Here. Sam, I think they'd started drugging me. I didn't feel good, and then must have done it again today." He moved a little to let Sam get dressed. "Couldn't really make everything out but I heard them talking about blessing all the women and then providing the food of life to the fertility tree. I don't know where that tree is but I bet those men..."

Sam struggled to pull his t-shirt over his head, groaning as he had to shift his hips forward. He pushed up to a crouch, falling back to his knees once as his muscles protested and then crawled over to his jeans. "We need to get help." Still shivering, Sam tried stepped into his jeans and tried to pull them up over his still damp skin. He swore and kicked out his leg, frustrated with himself and the whole situation. Losing his balance Sam fell forward again, landing hard on his knee. He hissed and swore, dropped onto his side and lay there for a few moments in the sand trying to calm himself and catch his breath.

"Yeah.. gotta call the--" A blinding wave of lust struck Dean from out of left field. He dropped from his knees down to all fours, crawling away from the water and from Sam, his gut clenching with need, his teeth grinding together with such force he was afraid he was gonna break his teeth. A sound broke from the back of his throat. "Stay away...." he managed, rolling on his back and groaning as he put his hand around his already rock hard cock. "Sonova.... Oh God," he rolled onto his side and started pumping his cock. No, not again... this wasn't pleasure, this was pain, this was madness, this was complete lack of control. "No... fucking no..." Things started to blur again and as he jacked off, he was pleading under his breath, begging for this to stop, begging for release from the pressure building inside him.

 _Stay away_ was exactly the wrong thing to say to Sam. He was already angry, frustrated, and in pain; the last straw was hearing his brother tell him to stay away. Dean had promised not to do that anymore. Sam struggled to his feet and kicked his jeans off his ankles, stumbling back up the beach to Dean's writhing body. "Dean, what's wrong...let me help you," his eyes drifted down to Dean's fist and he took in a deep shuddering breath, "what did they _do_ to you.?" Starting to feel a little lost Sam sat down hard on his ass not even noticing as more rocks cut into his skin. Reaching out he smoothed Dean's hair back from his forehead then moved quickly. He hauled Dean over to him by his shoulders and slid himself under his brother's body so he could cradle Dean against his chest. Sam slid one hand around Dean's chest, fingers splayed holding Dean, his other hand reached from Dean's swollen cock; he threaded their fingers together and helped his brother in the only way he could think to.

"Oh God... Sam just ... go." Even has he pleaded, he detached his fingers from Sam's, then clamped his hand around Sam's, lifting his hips, writhing, pleading as he fucked Sam's fist. He tried to keep Sam in focus, tried to remember not to hurt him, not to demand more, but it was getting harder. He moved his face from side to side, kissing... sucking a bruise into the soft skin of Sam's throat the moment he realized he could.

Lust roiled in his belly, like acid eating away everything else, everything but the need poisoning his veins. Suddenly this wasn't enough, he wanted more. He sat up, put one hand on Sam's chest to make sure he wouldn't get up, then rolled on top of him, thrusting against his body as hard as he could, fucking against it with the single-mindedness of an animal in heat. He had to get off, had to... it was all he wanted in the world right now... for Sam to get him off. He found his brother's ravaged mouth and plundered it all over again, like he hadn't found release a short time ago, like they hadn't just fucked too long and too hard.

Crying out softly Sam fell back against the rocks and dirt under him, He wrapped his long legs around Dean's lower back and crossed his ankles hoping he could give Dean the friction he needed. His body complained with every thrust, muscles, joints, bones - everything pushed the limit. _Fuck_ he loved Dean, adored him, with every part of his being, but this was stretching Sam to his limit. His brother, _Dean_ , had never hurt him before and this was starting to chip away at Sam's courage and conviction. Sobbing out his brother's name, Sam put up no resistance - just clung to his brother as they rode out the storm together.

Dean didn't know how long it lasted. Just that in the lucid moments between the bouts of lust he tried to apologize, begged Sam to get away from him, to leave him there until this was over. But every time the heat was back, Sammy was right there with him, using his hand, his hip, his leg... letting Dean fuck him as much and as hard as he needed. All sense of time was lost to Dean. He had run out of tears long ago and had grown hoarse from pleading and shouting. Now, as he stared at the stars above, he suddenly realized he could see them. Like a shroud had been lifted from his eyes.

"Sam..." he tightened his hold on his brother and didn't miss how Sam tensed. Immediately, he released him, but helped him sit up. "It's over... I think it's over." Putting his hand on the side of Sam's face, he kissed his cheek, and his chin, avoiding his swollen lips. If his own pain was any indication, then Sam had to be hurting ... maybe worse then himself. "Over. You... you alright?" He looked up. "What a fucking, stupid question."

Struggling to his knees, Sam gathered his clothes against him, eyes wide and glassy in the darkness. "M'okay. " His eyes were heavy-lidded and Sam's fingers fluttered up to his cheek and rubbed softly - it actually felt as though the side of his face was swollen. Forcing his arms to move, Sam tugged his t-shirt down over his head, arms aching as he tried to reach up and pull it down over his chest. Leaving his shirt hiked up around his middle he pulled his arms into his torn button up shirt. Pushing up to his feet, Sam stumbled down the water, jeans trailing over the rocks and sand behind him. Kneeling down heavily in the water, Sam tried to wash some of the mess off his over-sensitive skin. He was almost asleep on his feet, _how long had they been here?_ Leaning forward he splashed water onto his face and hair then reached down and tried to clean his ass, hissing as the cold water touched his aching body. When he'd done as much as he could he climbed out of the water and laid down on his jeans breathing softly, resting, trying to give himself a change to recover some strength. "Can we... leave now? Have to tell someone," he murmured almost asleep.

"Gimme a moment... I'll take care of it," Dean answered, wincing at the way Sam barely walked and then fell apart on the sand. Again, he lost sense of time, but by morning, the police had raided the island and found the bodies of the missing men and knew many of the townsfolk were involved... Dean had given them as many names as he could remember, but he'd done it anonymously. The important thing was that there would never be another ritual on the island.

He and Sam were holed up in his hotel room on the mainland. He'd dealt with their cuts and injuries as best as he could, they'd crammed into the shower for a quick wash, then collapsed on the bed. Now Dean lay on his side, stroking Sam's hair as his brother slept.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam woke early in the morning, it made sense, he had passed out almost the moment Dean had managed to get them both stuffed under the sheets on the bed. Almost every part of Sam's body hurt and when he tried to turn his head the world tilted a little and he closed his eyes for a few more moments. Dean was draped over him, warm and heavy; safe. Moving slowly, Sam leaned into his brother inhaling the scent of his freshly washed hair; this was his Dean.

Moving far more gingerly than he ever had in his life Sam slid out from under his brother's body and sat on the edge of the bed until the room stopped spinning. When he was finally able to stand he padded to the bathroom, grabbing the coffee pot on the way and returning moments later to start the in-room coffee machine. As quietly as possible he rooted through the bag of food Dean had staggered out to get the night before. Grinning Sam pulled out Twinkies and Reese's peanut butter cups; he moaned happily when he found a bottle of Tylenol.

Slipping into the bathroom Sam grabbed a glass and swallowed three Tylenol. He leaned forward to look in the mirror, poking softly at the bruise on his cheek. Looking at his face, his swollen eyes, split lip; the sounds of his brother came back to him, Dean's face, his desperation and Sam leaned on the sink and let his head fall for a few moments. Only now, in the stark light of the bathroom was he able to admit to himself that he'd been really scared on the island; scared of not being able to get away, scared of ... Dean. Dean was the one always in control, the one who held things together when they were falling apart, the planner, the ..... the guy who staggered to the store to buy his little brother food before collapsing in to bed.

Pushing off from the sink Sam crept back out into the room and poured his brother a cup of coffee. He put the coffee on the bedside table beside his brother and slipped around the bed to climb back in and warm himself up again. Reaching out he ran his finger back and forth over Dean's cheek trying to wake the older man.

"Mphff.." Dean protested, instinctively knowing being awake would mean feeling pain again, it would mean seeing the damage he'd caused, and seeing as he was with Sam, it would mean a post mortem... talking about one of the worst days of his, maybe their, lives. He felt Sam's hand again and taking a deep breath, forced his eyes open. His brother's face looked worse than he remembered. "Morning," he said, a nicety that rarely left his lips when he was awakened. You alright? Are you hurting. How bad is it? Questions he wanted to but was scared to ask. "You should rest some more."

Sam let his hand fall to the mattress. "I rested - I made you coffee, it's behind you. There's Tylenol beside it- I highly recommend taking two," he nodded and muttered under his breath, "or three." He winced slight as he leaned back on the pillow. "I wanted to wake you up and make sure you were okay - I mean," Sam looked away, "you're feeling good now? right?"

"Yeah... great." Making a face, Dean struggled to sit up. First things first, he took a sip of coffee, swallowing a couple pills with it, then set it down and turned to Sam. Slowly, he became aware of every ache and pain in his body, and a burning sensation... like he'd poured alcohol on his groin. Meant he'd fucked himself raw. Meant Sam was suffering for it too. He bit his lip hard. Putting his hand on Sam's thigh, he cleared his throat. "I wish... I'm really sorry."

Sam flinched and shifted away slightly, forcing a nervous laugh. "I... you want... it's okay," he shook his head, "you want something to eat? I could get you something." He bit down on his bottom lip watching Dean's face from under his bangs.

Tension roiled off his brother. From the way he'd winced at his touch, to the way he was watching him carefully, like he was about to pounce. Cocking his head, Dean reached out to touch a bruise on Sam's face. His stomach clenched when Sam jerked back, and then only tolerated his touch. He could tell Sam wanted to pull away, wanted him to drop his hand.

He took his hand back and swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Are you..." Forcing the the unthinkable words out was difficult. "Do I scare you?"

Sam chewed on his bottom lip and pressed his eyes closed. It wasn't his Dean he was scared of. Fuck. He hadn't even intended for Dean to know how he felt. He just... it was an automatic reaction, Dean's hand on his thigh- it jolted him, sent him back to the beach in a moment and touching his cheek, it was... he couldn't go there.

He turned his head away slightly so Dean wouldn't see the tears that were welling in his eyes. "Maybe you're right, Dean, Maybe I'm just tired. It was... " he licked his lips, "you were ... it was hard. I tried to help - I mean, I know you were ... sick, drugged." He rolled onto his side facing away from Dean. "It's okay, Dean, I ... love you." And he did, he let his memories from Christmas wash over him and keep his eyes shut tightly remembering his brother's body in the firelight, the gentle touches, soft kisses. "S'okay, Dean don't worry."

Dean remembered snatches of what happened. Thought he remembered telling Sam to get away from him, but his brother was too nice. He wished Sam had shoved him away, left him there until it wore off. No one ever died from a need to fuck, even if it felt like he would. No, Sam had stayed... for him. And even in those moments Dean had known what was happening, known he was hurting his brother, he hadn't fucking been able to stop. He'd been a savage, he'd hurt the one person in this world he thought he never would.

"It's not okay. I know what I did... I see it." He sniffed and looked straight ahead, at the wall, but what he really wanted to do was pull Sam in his arms and tell him it was okay, and to somehow erase the last twenty four hours. "I wish I could take it back, all of it. I wish you weren't so Goddamn smart, that you hadn't come for me." He nodded, meaning every word, even as tears pricked his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Sam rolled back over to face his brother. "Dean..." he swallowed. "I would go anywhere and do anything for you," he said without hesitation, no fear, just certainty. He knew that. He knew that no matter what he was feeling at the moment. Closing his eyes, Sam shifted closer and breathed in his brother's scent, so familiar, so comforting, just like in the firelight, just like then.

Without opening his eyes Sam smiled softly. "You smell good, will you..." he trailed off, cheeks tinged pink in the morning light, "can you just touch me?" He could feel his brother's warmth, they were so close, but he wanted it to be Dean who bridged the gap - so he could show him, show his older brother how much he trusted him. "Just touch.." he whispered.

No matter what his brother said, Dean knew Sam was conflicted. He flinched, but nevertheless allowed him to touch. He asked to be touched, but had to clarify he didn't want more than to be touched. Like he was afraid Dean would try something, ask for more, ask him again to sacrifice himself. He nodded, and using two fingers, gently started painting over the lines of Sam's face. "I'd never... never hurt you on purpose Sam. I'd rather cut off my arms, you know that?" he asked thickly, so afraid they might never get back to were they were comfortable with each other. Lightly, he touched Sam's swollen mouth, just the corner, moving on quickly... not wanting the touch to feel too intimate... to be a reminder.

Sam puffed out a breath and moved slightly to kiss the ends of Dean's fingers before they moved too far away. His smile was peaceful and he shuffled closer to Dean, hand sliding shyly over his brother's waist. He relaxed into the mattress, loving the soft touch of the pads of Dean's fingers.

"What's next, Dean?" Sam's fingers curled around his brother's firm hip. "We gonna go find Dad and do some hunting? Maybe a vacation?" Sam grinned, eyes closed, cheeks ruddy. He scooted closer again, seeking out Dean's warmth under the sheets. He nuzzled into Dean's neck, lips pressed against his brother's skin. "Maybe we could just drive somewhere ...you and me...camp for a week or something?"

It was Dean's turn to stiffen a little, afraid Sam was forcing himself to get this close, that at any moment, he'd pull away or remember again or... He hardly dared to breath as he swept his palm now, down Sam's throat then to his chest, sometimes tracing the marks he'd left, as if his new touches could erase them. His eyes fluttered shut as Sam started touch him instead of pulling away. He drew in in brother's scent, reveled in his body heat and in the fact that Sam was still here.

"No, I think right now I want to just... just keep you safe, away from... from everything." Maybe they'd hole up here a few days, until every ache and pain left Sam's body, and then he'd drive him back to school. The motel was nicer than most, but that was because it was hard to find a dump near the coast in these parts. He slid his hand down Sam's side, fighting off images of how hard he'd grabbed him, held him. Apologies welled up in his throat, he just wanted to keep repeating them like a mantra... over and over... tell him how sorry he was.

Sam almost purred, lips moving softly against Dean's throat. "I like that idea ... safe .... just with you." Hell, Dean would only have to say the world and Sam would follow him anywhere. He's been feeling so disconnected at school like he chose the wrong place to be, displaced. He just couldn't figure out how to tell Dean that without starting off another argument. Sam ran dragged his lips slowly back and forth across the hot flesh of his brother's throat, lazy, almost sleepy again. "Never feel safe anywhere else." And it was true, when he was away from Dean, there was always something gnawing at him. Near his brother, Sam relaxed; he stopped watching the door, counting the people in the room, stopped checking the color of people's eyes.

Sam sighed, feeling the tension drain from his body and closed the distance between them, loving the feel of Dean's body against his. "Like when you take care of me..." he murmured. He pushed his arm under Dean's, pressing his palm flat against his brother's back, pulling them close together.

Well they were touching each other all over now, and Dean knew he wasn't real good at this... the kinda talk that Sam wanted. He just never had the right words for the feelings in his heart, or thought they'd come out sappy. Wasn't sappy when they came from his brother though. "Don't deserve this... you." That was the truth, though he found himself drawing Sam close too, his hand on Sam's back, bodies touching from head on down to their knees and feet. "Sleep now," he kept stroking Sam lightly, his mouth skimming over his temple. "I'll bring us some lunch later. This here is a 'fancy' motel, even got ourselves a private balcony." He was exaggerating, it was more that a part of the walkway had chairs and a table in front of each room, but it would be better than going anywhere when they, and especially Sam, were sporting all those bruises.

Sam smiled and drifted off to sleep, safe in Dean's arms.

* * *

When Sam woke up and rolled over, he knew Dean was gone. He couldn't hear his brother and his boots were missing; Dean was out getting lunch like he had promised. Bones creaking and muscles complaining, Sam climbed out of bed and padded into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and slipped behind the curtain letting out a groan of happiness as the hot water pounds down on his body. He tried not to think about how sore he was, hell he didn't want to think about anything on the island for a while - although - there was something quite alluring about it being Dean who wanted Sam so badly.

Chuckling, then groaning when it made his stomach hurt, Sam washed his hair and stood there for a good ten minutes with his face in the hot water. He rubbed his body gently, soothing the bruises and cuts. By the time he emerged from the bathroom rosy-cheeked and glowing, towel slung low around his hips, Dean had returned.

"Hey sexy," Dean gently dropped a kiss onto Sam's wet mouth then pulled away and walked to the small ice chest he'd brought. He'd decided to be casual, to act normal, to stop feeling awkward... cause that shit could be like a self-fulfilling prophesy. Him thinking Sam was scared or would pull away could create that expectation and a certain tension that his brother would pick up on, and it would snowball. Instead, he'd just give Sam some space, not bring up what happened, and just... just be brothers. Okay well calling him 'sexy' had definitely been unbrotherly, not to mention he'd never ever called him that before, so it was kinda un-Dean too. He'd have to work on trying to be casual.

"I got lunch set up outside, and brews," he pulled two bottles out and looked at Sam again. He tried not to allow his eyes to travel down Sam's body, tried not to think of dropping the damned towel with just one finger tugging on that part of the towel that was tucked in. "You wanna put something on or plan to give the neighbors something to talk about?"

Sam threw his head back and laughed, "I'll get dressed, never been much of an exhibitionist!" He moved back to his bed and yanked the duffel up off the floor. After a few minutes of digging around he emerged onto the fake patio in a baggy t-shirt and the loosest jeans he could find. Everything still hurt and he wasn't looking forward to sitting on the metal patio chair, but he knew his brother, knew that Dean would be feeling guilty about any injury he thought Sam had. Sam did his best to move around as if nothing was wrong.

He padded out barefoot and leaned down to steal a quick kiss from Dean while no one was around. He hovered by his chair until Dean looked away then sat down quickly, grimacing and shifting uncomfortably until Dean's eyes were on him again. Sam froze on the spot and pressed his lips together in a mischievous grin trying his best to look completely innocent.

That was the first time they'd kissed outside. No... Dean's jaw ached as he thought about how he'd ruined that thought. By the time he looked back at Sam, his brother was giving him a strange smile, one that immediately made him suspicious. "Is something wrong... you need something?" One hand on the back of his chair, he studied Sam's features.

"Food, I need food." Sam smiled and sat still. There was no way he was going to lie because Dean would see through it right away. And there was no way he was leaning across the table to reach for anything, anymore pressure on his balls and he'd be groaning for sure. He had bruises in places he'd never thought he would. "Hand me a plate with edible things on it." Sam flashed his best smile at Dean, dimples and all.

Raising his chin in a nod, Dean dropped his gaze and fixed a plate for Sam. He'd even gotten him some green things, seeing as his brother was all 'California-healthy' now. As he slid the plate in front of Sam and reached for the ketchup and mustard packets, he asked. "Do you... how about a pillow. Or we can eat in."

Sam sucked in his bottom lip. "Is it that obvious?" He looked down. "I think I'd like to sit on the bed if that's okay - but this was a really great idea." He blushed and looked up at Dean, "can't remember the last time you and I sat at a table to eat together."

"Christmas day, breakfast." He swallowed and nodded. "Alright, go on inside, I'll bring everything." His eyes were focused on Sam, watching to see if he'd need help.

Taking a deep breath Sam pushed him self up off the chair managing to only groan once quietly. "Christmas," he said, "I really liked Christmas." He picked up his plate and walked back into the room and laid down on the bed wiggling forward to his plate and grinning at Dean. "Better," he said. Sam crunched into a carrot and chewed loudly, "how you doing?"

"Not bad. Aspirin helped. .. most of me," he admitted, giving a wry smile as he brought in his food and both their drinks. Setting the bottles on the nightstand, he lowered himself on the bed next to Sam and fixed the pillows behind him. Grabbing the remote, he tossed it between their bodies, took a couple of swigs of his beer and settled back. "We're doing things all backwards here but... so how's school. Finals coming up, right?" He looked over at his brother. "I want to see the A's lined up on your report card." He had no idea how his brother had ended up being so smart, even with all the traveling they did and the lack of any structured time.

Sam took a deep breath and wriggled closer to Dean so he was lying in the crook of Dean's arm, whether his brother wanted him there or not. "About that," Sam reached down and picked up a grape and jammed it in Dean's mouth, buying himself a few moments of uninterrupted reasoning. "I don't want to go back." He felt his brother stiffen immediately. "I know you're gonna freak but ... it's my decision. If you want to actually listen to the reasons why I will tell you. If you don't that's okay." Sam popped a grape in his own mouth and chewed happily.

"Hey," Dean protested around the large grape in his mouth... the grapes were for Sam, not him, and he wasn't done eating his meal. Before he had it chewed, he knew the reason for his brother's little tactic and started to tense. They'd had an agreement, and once they made it... he kinda relied on it. Yeah it was dumb, after what just happened on the island, and after everything Sam said... to expect another 7 months to make a difference, but it might. "Does this have to do with... with what happened? It could send anyone around the bend, Sam... I know that... but..." He blew out a breath of hot air, wondering what psychological injuries he'd now inflicted on his brother in addition to the physical.

Sam sighed; it was always one step forward and three steps back with Dean. "Dean, it has nothing to do with what happened on the Island." Sam pushed his plate off to the side and burrowed into Dean's side, slipping his arm over Dean's hips. "I've done nothing but think about it since I left you at Christmas. There are a lot of reasons. The main one is I don't feel right there. I don't feel safe, like - I don't know, I have these nightmares sometimes, like visions, which doesn't really matter but they don't come when I'm with you. And I think that we belong together. I don't belong in some Ivy League School, Dean, never have - you know that just as well as I do." Sam took a breath. "I want to be doing what you want to do ... I want to hunt. I'm smart, Dean, I'm good at research and you know that I'm the best guy to have at your back, I would never let you down and you'd never let me down. It's perfect." Sam lifted his head up to see Dean's face. "I think I'm done now."

"No." Dean shook his head. "No, I don't know that at all Sammy. You always loved school, you hated moving... hated the interruption of your studies, you like college. I came by, I saw... I know you do. Hunting's not your life, it never has been. You're not giving your dreams up for some... some idea you got in your head that ..." That what? "... that I need you to save me, like on the island or... or I don't know what."

He felt Sam's hold on him tighten, but didn't react to it. He wasn't gonna let Sam derail him, and his brother was so damned good at that. "Even at Christmas, you kept talking about me joining you, not the other way around. What happened to change all that? Some nightmares? I'm sorry Sam, not buying that." He pressed his lips into a thin line. "You want to be with me, that I get. At the cost of your dreams... that I don't. And we had a deal. I don't even know how you could think about going back on that after what just happened. No, listen," he cupped Sam's chin and forced him to look at him. "I love you, but I'm not gonna be the person you turn around and start resenting when you find out your life isn't what it could have been... should have been. You got that?"

"Yes, Dean, I understand exactly what you're saying but things have changed for me." Sam rested his chin on Dean's chest staring up at him. "It's not about you, us, I mean, okay - yeah that would be great being with you. But - I just ... I just don't feel right there. If you and I weren't ... " Sam looked down briefly, "you know, together, then I would go and stay with Dad. It's that important to me." Sam's fingers curled tightly into Dean's shirt, his knuckles were white. "I don't want to be by myself - if I can't be with you, and just let me say that's exactly where I want to be - then I'll call Dad and ask him if I can come and stay with him for a while. If he won't let me..." Sam's voice trailed off.

"Did dad put you up to this?" Dean's eyes narrowed as some of what his dad had said over the last few months, about his being the best one to keep Sam safe, came out of Sam's mouth.

Sam's brow furrowed. "Did Dad... What?" Sam tilted his head a little and blinked up at Dean, "I haven't talked to Dad, hell, since before Christmas. I have no... what ..." Sam's lips pressed together for a moment. "What did Dad say to you? What's happened?"

Dean didn't doubt the truth of Sam's words. Running his hand over his face, he sighed. "He said we should..." he waved his hand around, and gave Sam a meaningful look.

Watching Dean's fingers Sam blinked a few times. "Said we should... what? Square dance?"

"What? No." He took a breath, "Just that we should... you and I..." He couldn't do it, he let his hand and fingers speak for himself again.

Sam pushed himself up and shifted around so he was facing Dean. "What the hell is wrong with you? What did Dad Say we should do?" It had been a long time since Sam had seen his brother this flustered about anything. "Is Dad okay?"

He fucking couldn't do this, not sitting on the bed with Sam. Tossing his plate on the nightstand, Dean swung his legs off and pushed off with more gusto than he should have, according to the pains in his body. He started to pace, looked over at Sam, then paced some more. "Stop looking at me like that, I'm working up to it, alright?" he snapped.

Why the fuck did he have to go through this not once, but twice? First with dad, now with Sam. "He told me about these two hunters, kind of like Jack and Jill, only... they were Jack and Jim, you know?" He looked at Sam, hoping to hell he caught on faster than he had when dad had been doing the explaining.

Watching his brother pace back and forth, Sam began to wonder if the drug that the women gave him had come back for a last hurrah or something. "Dean, are you feeling okay?" Sam got up slowly, groaning, reached for and missed Dean twice as he paced, then finally snagging his brother's arm. Reaching out, he felt Dean's forehead. "Is it ... the island? Are you okay?" His eyes were wide.

"What? No I'm fine, it's not the fucking island, that's over." He said it in a harsher tone than he intended. "Jack and Jim, I think he meant you and I should... Goddamit, I think he saw us Christmas Eve. That generator didn't fix itself, it was dad... and he never came in. Then he goes off about those hunters... and he's not mad... and he fucking freaks me out, even if its not all in a bad way, and I really... really did not want to talk about this yet." He pulled away from Sam and took a breath.

Sam's mouth went completely dry; he opened his mouth then closed it again and started at his brother. "D..d..dad saw us? together?" His eyes widened remembering Christmas eve, "in bed?" His voice went far higher than he had intended. "Wait - and ... you're alive? He's not mad? Was it Dad?" Sam sat down heavily on the bed and hissed. "Was he possessed?" He started shaking his head then glared up at Dean, "No. No. Dean I'm not stupid. Y..you're trying to make me think that Dad saw us - so you have a way out." He forced out a laugh. "Well," folded his arms firmly across his chest, "I'm not falling for that."

"Fine. Good. Then we don't have to talk about it anymore," he said frustrated. "C'mon Sammy, let's see what's on t.v., I don't think either of us are up for this right now." He gave him a 'brother knows best" look.

"Ooooh no you don't. You don't get to bring this all up and then shut-down." Sam stood and stalked over to the window even though he regretted it instantly. He really had to remember not to move quickly for a few days. "If you don't want me with you, don't make shit up." Sam stared out the window. "I'm a big boy now, Dean. You don't want me around that's fine. I'll call Dad tomorrow and work things out with him ... somehow." He tried to sound more certain than he felt about the possibilities of a conversation with his father after all this time. "Just say the word and I'm out of your hair." He turned and faced Dean, hazel eyes blazing.

"I fucking told you the truth, but you didn't want to believe it. That's fine, cause really... I'm not sure I want to believe it either, alright? Jesus Sam, it's like you think you're just asking me for directions or something here. Fuck," he walked to the other window and emulating his brother, looked out.

Sam's hands fell to his sides. "Dad... said it was okay for us to ... be together." He turned to Dean and stared at him for a few moments. He'd said a lot of shitty things about his father over the years, some of them were deserved, some not - but Sam had never felt grateful to the man before. This was the one thing that could have made things easier for Dean. Maybe, Dad really did love them, or at least Dean. "Hey..." Sam took a tentative step closer to his brother a bit scared of the hard line of Dean's shoulders. "That means, it's okay right? We can be together." Closing the gap between them, Sam settled for slipping his fingers through Dean's belt loop and tugging slightly. "Right?"

"Sam..." Their eyes met and there was no denying the truth of what was between them. "Right..." Not making any move to hold or touch Sam, Dean leaned in and brushed Sam's lips lightly with his own. "Right... I think that's what it means." Though he wasn't sure how the hell to act around dad when he was alone, and it would be ten times worse with Sam there, not that awkwardness would ever stop him from wanting their whole family to be together. "Still want you to grow up. To accomplish your own dreams," he said softly. "Is that so bad?"

Sam's head fell to the side and he smiled wistfully. "Dean, I've been grown up since the day you told me the monster under the bed was real." He unhooked his finger from the belt loop and leaned heavily against his brother's side for a few longs moments. "I ... I can't be away from you. I hate it but I was telling the truth." Sam didn't reach his arms around Dean even though that's what he desperately wanted to do. He pulled back and returned to the bed to sit down. Leaning his arms on his thighs he let his head fall down between his shoulders. "I feel out of place there, Dean. I mean, I can't not know what I know about the things I've seen, about what's out there." Sam looked up. "The Island ... Dean, they would have ..." he almost couldn't say the word but he knew that he needed to, "killed you. Do you know what that would do to me? Do you have any idea? I ... c..c..couldn't li..."

"Yeah... I have an idea." He crossed the room and sat next to his brother, one arm behind his back. One thing was true, from a young age, Sam had always known what he wanted. Whether he changed his mind or not, he was never wishy washy, never had trouble selecting a path. Maybe he had decided school wasn't the way to go. Maybe he did feel out of place, like he was saying. And maybe there was more to his nightmares cause for the life of him, Dean could not shake feeling there was something more to dad's repeated questions about Sam's safety.

He sniffed and leaned forward to look at Sam's face. "Tell you what. We stay here a couple days, and if you still feel that way, then fine. We'll go get your stuff and you can start a new and exciting life as a hunter. One thing... next time anyone has to satisfy a hundred sex crazed women? You're taking it for the team." It was a wonder he was able to grin, knowing Sam had 'taken it' for the team, over and over, until he was bruised, battered, in pain, and hardly able to move. "And another thing. Music rule still stands. None of your... crappy pop." The way his brother's eyes lit up, filled with the fire of life, had Dean's heart flipping in his chest. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe it was time that he saw it too, that they'd broken so many rules in their lives, maybe this one needed to be broken too... the world wouldn't come crashing around his head if they did.

Sam resisted throwing his arms around his brother. He looked down, shifting slightly. "Okay ... to everything." He was still smiling, the idea of being with Dean had been something, for so long, he thought he would constantly have to fight for. And now, Dean had handed him the answer he'd been wishing for all this time. "Sam grinned - there's only one drawback to all this ya know?" He beamed up at Dean, certain his cheeks were going to ache later because of all the smiling, "I was looking forward to getting married one day so I could see you in a tux!" He laughed and reached out to pull Dean towards him, burying his face into his brother's stomach and tightening his arms around his hips. "But I can live without the tux business if I get you."


	4. Chapter 4

About a week later, they'd collected Sam's stuff from his university. Dean had stood around as Sam exchanged phone numbers and e-mails with every damned student that passed by. For a second, he'd wondered if he was doing the right thing... whatever Sam claimed about his feeling on the subject, but moments later Sam was dragging him into the car like he couldn't wait to get started on the rest of their lives and his enthusiasm was just too catching to resist.

He'd driven along the coast, despite the odd looks Sam was giving him, probably wondering where the hell they were going and why they weren't heading out of the state of California. "Ghost hunting," was the most Dean would give him, and then he distracted Sam with other things.

They checked into a motel, and he successfully sent Sam on a grocery shopping spree. Waiting only until he could no longer see his brother from the door, Dean jumped into the Impala and drove away.

*

[1 hour later]

The instant Sam picked up his call, Dean spoke in a rushed tone. "Sam, I'm at the Coral Beach Hotel. Room 252.... get over here, quick, and bring an emf monitor, mine broke. Aw crap... forget that and just get here as fast as you can."

The phone went dead in Sam's hand, his eyes were wide. Not again. His heart started thundering in his chest and he tore through the duffel trying to find the EMF monitor. Sam couldn't even think straight by the time he got outside - and realized Dean had the car. For once, he called a cab, the motel was far too busy for him to hotwire a car and anyway, it always took him longer than it took Dean. Standing there in the parking lot waiting for the taxi to arrive was longest ten minutes of his life. When the cab pulled up at the Hotel, Sam threw Thirty dollars at the driver and ran into the lobby and straight up the stairs. Panting, he knocked on the door to room #252 - not knowing what he was walking into.

"It's open, come on in," Dean shouted from the balcony. He'd seen the cab arrive, knew it was Sam. He had his back to the railing, one arm resting on it, eyes focused on the door to the large suite that opened up into french windows that lead to the large balcony overlooking both a pool and the Pacific Ocean.

Sam turned the door knob and pushed the door open with his foot, standing back slightly he stepped through. His eyes scanned the room quickly, expensive, private, well-cared for, nothing had been touched really. Sam walked further into the room "Dean?". As he walked out into the sunlight streaming through the balcony window he stopped dead in his tracks. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Dean was standing in front of him on the balcony, sun shining on his dirty blond hair and he was wearing a tux. Shirt, tie, vest, jacket ... tux. He looked ... ,handsome; Sam couldn't even think of another word, except maybe really hot. And he had heard Sam, the one regret that Sam had about them being together was apparently one regret too much for Dean to live with. There was a slightly embarrassed smile on Dean's face which made him even more adorable - there's a word you don't use out loud to describe Dean if you want to live. Sam beamed and took a few steps closer, then noticed a rose in his brother's hand. "Hey you," he said, head tilted slightly, eyes roaming over the long line of Dean's leg in the Tux pants, "you waiting for someone?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Um yeah. Waiting for someone... you seen him?" He hadn't really been sure of what he was doing, if this would have Sam happy or just laughing at him. He still wasn't sure there wouldn't be laughter, but for the moment the look on Sam's face was enough to make him glad he'd gone for it. "If he doesn't show up soon, you ah... wanna take his place?"

His brother was disheveled, probably had grabbed the first overshirt he could, his hair was all over his eyes, and he looked as about out of place here as Dean had when he'd arrived. His pulse rose at the thought of stripping Sam, later... much later. But it had been a long time since he'd touched him, gone all the way. Not since the island.

Sam took a couple of shuffling steps closer, shrugged a shoulder and looked down at the clothes he was wearing. "I'm a little under dressed." He blushed and found his eyes just wanted to be on Dean. "I..." Sam couldn't even think of the right words so he just walked straight out on the balcony and pressed his lips against Dean's. "You ... uh.... " he smiled from behind his mess of hair, "surprised me."

"Yeah." Leaning in, he stole another kiss, one hand wrapping around Sam's back. Cocking his head to the side, he grinned. "You're always overdressed for me." Lifting his hand, he gave Sam the rose. "I tried to find the little white ones with the frilly pink edges, cause you know... you'd like those better, but turns out they're outta season," he smirked.

Laughing softly Sam took the rose and ran his hand down the front of Dean's jacket, smoothing the material. "You look great, so great, I will even overlook that comment." But Sam was so happy he could have overlooked anything. He heard something clink behind him and looked down to see some beer on ice in a small bucket. "Ah... the perfect date," he grinned, "guess ...." his grin faded to a slightly predatory smile, "I got my way." Dean's eyes were locked on his and Sam's heart was about ready to burst out of his chest.

"Maybe we both did." Slanting his mouth over Sam's again, Dean pulled him up hard against him, his tongue slipping inside to tangle with Sam's, weaving in and out as he made love with his mouth, and his hands, stroking Sam's back, moving down over his ass, rubbing against him lightly as if in promise of things to come. "Mmm... Sam..." when he broke for air, he cocked his head and rubbed his thumb over his wet lips. "You're some kinda potent." Giving his brother a look, he quickly moved away to open up a couple of brews. If he stayed too close, somehow he knew they'd do things backwards, and he didn't want to that for Sam.

Licking his lips Sam took a few long moments to open his eyes. He grinned at Dean and reached out for a beer chuckling softly, "s'good to know some things don't change." He took a swig of beer letting his eyes wander, good to know that Dean's body looked even better than Sam had thought it would in a tux. He stepped closer again, "so.. what's with the big seduction. I'm pretty much a sure thing." He laughed and tugged on Dean's sleeve trying to get him to come to him again.

"Now you tell me. If I'd known I could get away with a cheap date." He looked behind them to the table and chairs where dinner plates had been set up. "You you keep this up, we're never making it to dinner, and housekeeping's gonna get an eyeful. You wanna sit?" He reached his hand out, and tugged right back on Sam, dragging him to it. As they walked, he took a drink, then stopped in the chair.

Sam's eyes widened a little and he pulled at his shirt self-consciously. "Maybe I should clean myself up a bit first.... or something... you should have told me." He smiled though, looking down at the table, fingers threading through his brother's. "Okay.... " he sat down at the table. It didn't matter what he was wearing, Sam couldn't get his mind wrapped around the idea that his brother had done this for him. It was the last thing he would have thought Dean would do, and yet, it was something only Dean would think of. Sam ran his hand through his hair.

Sitting down, Dean started to make small talk. He'd been thinking about doing something like this for the last few days, and he'd known it could get awkward and didn't want that. He talked about the history of the area and the fact that the hotel claimed to really have a ghost, and that it was a tourist draw. After a while, they were both kicking back, drinking and chatting.

Then dinner arrived. After the servers left, Dean looked at Sam. "They were dressed just like me."

Sam choked on his beer. "They weren't." He couldn't help it, he laughed. It was one of those laughs that always seemed to make Dean shake his head. Sam threw his head back, the joyful sound coming from deep within. When he finally managed to get himself together he wiped his eyes and grinned at Dean, "okay, they were - but you look way hotter." He raised an eyebrow, "course it's not my fault - I did try to get you out of that suit."

"You know how long it took to put the damned thing on? It's never coming off, Sam," he pointed at his brother. "Never."

Chuckling softly, Sam took a drink and settled back in his chair. "You know ... this was great, Dean." He was happy. He had finally relaxed and realized how much work this had been for Dean. "I mean it. Great." Things had been crazy, there was no denying that but Sam felt as though maybe Dean had reached a place where he could be okay. Sam had always been okay with loving Dean in one way or another. It had never occurred to him to be without his brother. Now, it seemed, finally - he didn't have to worry about a future without Dean. He smiled softly, more to himself than his brother and raised his beer in a toast. "To us."

"Wait!" he said, almost panicked. "One sex... I mean sec... just wait." Dean started patting his chest, and realized he had no pockets there, then reached into his right pocket, then cursed and got up, searching his left pocket. As his fingers closed around it, he let out a sigh of relief. He licked his lips, trying to avoid Sam's curious glances, trying to calm himself. "You know at Christmas, you got me the... " he lifted his arm and pulled his sleeve up to show Sam the leather bracelet. "And I didn't really... Anyway." He closed his eyes for a second. "Gimme your hand."

"My hand?" Sam leaned closer and stretched his hand out across the table, brow furrowed and nose wrinkled as he tried to figure out what Dean was doing.

Dean turned Sam's hand over. Then he put the silver ring that matched his own inside Sam's palm. "It.... ah... it says 'yours, for always.'" He'd picked the phrase because as a kid, whenever Sam got anything, he used to ask, 'for always?' "It matches mine and ah... you don't have to wear it, or you could maybe..." he touched his own shirt, where the amulet rested against his chest. "Or... whatever, you know." Suddenly his throat was dry.

Sam stared at the ring in his palm, moving it slightly with his thumb. "Dean..." He sat back in his chair just holding it to the light, then picked it up to look at the saying engraved on it. "Dean, thanks." Sam figured he could get away with that. There were a thousand other things he wanted to say, more than a million feelings he could have described - but really - he figured by now, his brother knew him well enough to see on his face what didn't make it past his lips. "Thank - you." He said again softly and slipped the ring onto his finger. For always. He pressed his lips together and shrugged a shoulder, half his mouth turned up into a sheepish grin.

Watching all the expressions chase over his brother's face, seeing the wonder and excitement, the emotions behind it, Dean was glad he'd done this. Putting his hand over Sam's he leaned in and kissed him lightly, then pulled away and started to tug at his bow tie. As he pulled the knot free, and the material hanged down in two strands on either side of his collar, he asked. "You wanna..." he nodded toward the railing overlooking the ocean. "... take a walk on the beach?" If they were going down the romantic road, he might as well go for broke.

Smiling Sam leaned forward, "you don't have to do all this, Dean." He blinked a few times, twisting the ring on his finger, wondering how Dean knew what size to get it. There were a few things, he realized, he didn't know about his brother. "I mean, I know this isn't your thing," he licked his lips, "Much as it really should be your thing - because.... man... you look .... really good." He blushed, just like that and grinned more and sat back flustered.

"Enjoy it while you got it, alright? Cause the next time I'm dressed like this, it's because I'm sneaking into a fundraiser or trying to be a waiter," he nodded. His fingers moved down to unbutton a few buttons, then he felt better. "You got something else you'd rather do, Sam?"

Fidgeting in the chair, Sam chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments pushing his beer bottle back and forth. "Well, the ocean's going to be there later... " his eyes were watching Dean's fingers, "and it's been a while...you know ... since you .." he bobbed his head from side to side. He'd never felt nervous around Dean before, and now Sam's heart was fluttering in his chest, his jaw was clenched and he was so turned on he could barely see.

"Yeah. I know that. Sam, we don't have to do anything. Just... Just want some time with you, you know... not work, and not the usual. A little relaxation. Nothing's gonna happen that you don't want, I swear. Not now, not ever again," Dean said, hoping Sam believed him. He played with his ring, then his bracelet, then his ring again. "We can watch t.v. Or just touch, whatever you like." The bruises were gone, but Dean worried the scars were much deeper.

"What? No...I mean..." Sam sighed, he wished that he could just erase that island from Dean's memory completely. He stood and walked over to his brother grabbing his hand, "okay, walk on the beach," he took a few steps backwards tugging Dean with him. "Come on - take me for a romantic stroll by the ocean, roll up your pants." Sam let Dean's hands drop and bent to yank off his boots, socks and then roll up his jeans. Slipping his arms out of his over shirt he smiled at his brother, "get your ass in gear."

"Sam, we don't..." Seeing his brother's look, he nodded and emulated his brother. Rolling up the tux pants and kicking his shoes off. Pushing the door open, he let Sam out and followed him. They took the stairs that lead down from their balcony, and as thye headed to the beach, Dean took his brother's hand, pulling it into his jacket pocket, just or a moment, then let him go.

The breeze had kicked up and the palms on the palm trees were swaying. They reached the water and walked along it, sometimes getting water over their bare feet. In the moonlight, Dean studied Sam's features. He looked relaxed and tense all at once. Maybe walking near the water hadn't been a good idea, but he didnt' know how to take it back. "Are you alright?"

Sam looked over at his brother, "Yeah, m'fine... just thinking." He looked back at the moonlight reflecting in strips on the water and splashed his feet through the shallows, leaving quickly fading footprints in the sand. "Dean, do you need something from me? Do you need me to forgive you? I mean, that stuff on the island - I don't think .. I know it wasn't you. Well, parts of it - I mean you want me but you would never..." fuck. This is coming out all wrong. He ran his free hand over his face, "I just... need you to know - that I'm okay. I forgive you if you need it -cause Dean, I think you always think everything is your fault, and your problem to prevent or fix and that's not what this was. Jesus Dean, say something." Sam pulled his brother to a sudden halt.

Dean had stuffed his hands into his pockets and was trying not to look at Sam when his brother confronted him. "What is there to say, Sam? I just... I remember bits and... I know how you came out of it." If he hadn't phoned Sam, or if he'd have been a little stronger, if he'd resisted just until they got to the mainland instead of attacking him on that rocky beach. "Yeah... yeah it is my fault, and I will spend the rest of my life fixing it. Don't.. don't go trying to take that from me," he said thickly. Dammit... this wasn't what they'd come here for.  
He wiped his thumb over his nose. "Let's just... lighten up, alright? Walk... maybe sit on the dock."

Sam dug his heels in, not moving. "Dean, let's go back to the room." He looked over at his brother, his face so pale in the moonlight; dusting of freckles over his nose, the wind rippling the material of his shirt. Sam started walking backwards in the sand, fingers still tangled with Dean's. A gust of wind blew ocean air over Sam's face and his closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. "Come on..."

Dean was indecisive, but Sam pretty much gave him no choice, pulling him along. "What are we doing, Sammy?" he asked, not one to like surprises that he wasn't the one springing. He was kicking himself already, maybe a beach side place hadn't been so smart. Maybe that was the problem. "You know, we still have the motel room..."

Sam stopped dead in his tracks and Dean kept walking until he ran right into Sam's chest.. "Dean?" Sam leaned in and crushed his mouth against his brothers. He dropped Dean's hand and slid his hands around Dean's neck, pulling him close, slipping his tongue into his brother's hot, wet, mouth. Sam threaded his fingers through Dean's hair, moving his mouth slowly back and forth, tasting his brother's lips, his tongue, his mouth, perfect. The ocean washed over their feet and Sam's lips wouldn't tear themselves away from Dean's, he gasped in a breathe and let his hands fall, slipping them around Dean's waist, loving the feel of his warm hard skin under the soft cool cotton. Finally, Sam pulled away and leaned his forehead against Dean's, "sometimes, you think too much," he said.

He was so twisted up on the inside and it had come from left field, or maybe it had been building up over the past few days. There was a reason Dean hadn't pushed for anything sexual, and there was a reason his hands were balled up inside his jacket pockets instead of around Sam, crushing him against his body. He was trying to be gentle, afraid of pushing or pulling, afraid of reminding Sam... of reminding himself.

"Maybe," Dean admitted, brushing his mouth against Sam's and moving to lean against his forehead against Sam's again. "Mostly I just... I want you to be happy, I don't want to be the one who fucks things up for you. It's not a good start, it is?" He snorted, and started to walk to the hotel, Sam's arm still around him.

"We've had a lot of starts, Dean, this is kind of the home stretch." Sam's mouth curved into a crooked grin and he kissed his brother's cheek softly.

They spent some time on the patio, brushing the sand off their feet and pants, Sam paid extra attention to Dean's ass - just in case there was any sand there. He was smiling the entire time, loving the feel of the suit, it fitted Deans perfectly;,tight in the right places, loose enough in others. He stepped back and admired his brother one more time and then padded back across the patio into the hotel room. Hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt Sam pulled it off over his head and tossed it out the door, hitting Dean in the chest. "Coming in?"

Dean caught the shirt and gave a half laugh. "You're being mighty flirty." He'd never thought of Sam like that, but with him... Sam definitely did a lot of flirting. Following him inside, he closed the balcony doors and headed for the bedroom.

Stepping inside, he found Sam waiting for him. Reaching for his hips, he pulled him close, flush against his body, examined his face in the semi darkness, then slanted his mouth over Sam's. Just a single brush of their mouths and heat was radiating from every point they touched. "Sammy..." he whispered, pushing his tongue inside, groaning softly at his brother's instant response. As their tongues dueled, he walked him backwards one step at a time deeper into the room.

As the urge to pull him closer, to manhandle him a little grew, Dean pulled his head up and took a couple of cooling breaths. "There's... there's two heads in the shower," he said, thinking maybe that would slow him down, make him the gentle lover Sam needed.

Smiling, Sam brushed his hair back from his face and stepped back, chest rising and falling a little faster. "Okay, but...." he looked Dean up and down. "I get to take the tux off." He raised an eye brow and waited for Dean's answering nod before moving closer again. Sam's hands slipped over Dean's shoulders, sliding down the cool material to the rolled up cuffs then he moved his hands to the remaining buttons on the front of the shirt. One at a time Sam slipped the buttons out of the button holes then smoothed the materials over Dean's chest. "Feels nice," he said.

"Very nice," Dean answered thickly, his eyes laser focused on Sam's large hands on his chest. "You got a thing for wrinkling white shirts?" he asked, dipping his head down and ghosting his mouth over the side of Sam's neck, drawing in his unique scent. "Or tearing. Or... do you just want me to leave it on?" He'd learned a lot about his brother's body over the past year, but he was discovering that his knowledge of Sam's fantasies was sadly lacking. "Shower can come later. However you want it." Just want it.

Sam's eyes lit up as he pulled back a little and sucked his bottom lip noisily, "I uh... yeah.... " he swallowed loudly, watching Dean's amused expression, "leave it on ... for a while." His hands were moving over Dean's chest, smooth and warm beneath his palms. "I really like it, really a lot." Letting his hands move over the rise and fall of his brother's abs Sam groaned softly; a small, low sound, deep in his chest. "Jesus .... Dean... You..." he took a deep breath and leaned down to run his tongue along Dean's bottom lip. Fuck he loved that bottom lip, it was soft and full, thick and sweet and just about the most sinful thing on Dean's body. Sam's tongue slipped tentatively into his brother's mouth, probing, seeking, sliding past his lips and swirling against Dean's tongue.

As Sam touched and kissed him, Dean's arousal became more obvious, straining against even the loose dress pants. Each time his brother's hand swept across his abs, Dean's cock pulsed. Gripping Sam's hips, he brought their bodies together again, grinding against him then walking him backwards until Sam's back hit the wall. Putting both hands on the wall on either side of Sam's body, Dean started to kiss his throat, then moved lower, using his teeth to open the button of his jeans.

Straightening, he stared into Sam's eyes as he unzipped him, then forced one leg between his brother's and started to kiss the daylight out of him, right up against the wall. Heat inched though his veins. It had been so long, so long since he touched Sam like this, so long since he claimed his body. Alarm bells started to ring in his head, reminding him it had not been that long ago. Fuck, he couldn't do this to him. Gripping Sam's waistband, he reversed their positions, so his own back was against the wall. Dropping his hands, he leaned against the wall and let Sam lean into him, do and get what he needed.

Sam's head spun when Dean whirled him around, his brow furrowing slightly. "Deean," it was a drawn out sound as Sam leaned heavily on his brother's chest sliding his rough palms over Dean's belly, sides, then his back. Letting his finger tips slip under the waist band of Dean's dress pants, Sam bit down on his brother's collar bone, mouthing his way along it. Dropping one hand, Sam let his fingers ghost over Dean's cock so hard and hot beneath the thin material. Sam collapsed one knee, letting his thigh press hard against his brother's crotch, rocking it slowly. His lips moved back up his brother's neck, tongue licking a path, teeth nipping gently until he could speak against his brother's ear, "touch me... " He wanted Dean's hands on him, could sense his brother holding back for some reason. Frustrated Sam pressed harder against Dean's hardness and slid his mouth across to take his brother's.

"Oh God, feels good, Sam," Dean said, rocking his hips, grinding into Sam's as much as he could but without too much pressure. He kissed Sam back, tongue tangling, but no longer taking... no longer leading the kiss. He slid his hands gently up and down Sam's back, fingers pressing into the contours of Sam's muscles, but taking things down a notch, to a safer level.

They kissed like that for a while, soft gentle kisses, the sounds of their breathing and moans. It was instinct, or just his style, but Dean started to pull on Sam harder, started to grip his ass, mold him closer, fuck against him harder. Without thinking, he'd turned them around again, was pushing Sam into the wall, was pulling his jeans down his hips as he raked his teeth down Sam's chest, licking over the red trails he made. He felt Sam shudder, and lifted his head, took a few breaths... almost apologized.

One hand on Sam's belt, he walked backwards and sat on the bed, pulling Sam over his knees so he straddled him. Raising his face, he kissed his brother, letting him take control of how hard and fast they went with this.

Sam walked forward on his knees until he was pressed as close as possible to Dean and settled across his thighs. His lips were moving hard against his brother's, back and forth; their tongues slid hot and wet against each other. Sam rolled his hips forward into Dean's, hands slipping around Dean's neck and crushing their mouths together even harder. He rocked back and forth on Dean's lap, breaking the kiss and letting his head fall back as his breath shot out of his body. "Dean...," Sam's hands slid back pushing the dress shirt down over Dean's shoulders; curling his body over his brother's Sam arched his back, wanting more, needing more from Dean. He moaned and tugged the shirt off Dean's arms, fumbling, hands clumsy with desire. "Please, Dean..." he groaned then crushed his mouth against his brother's again.

"Right here, baby, I gotcha," he whispered against Sam's mouth, shrugging one arm out of the shirt, and bringing his bare arm around Sam's waist, pulling him closer as they kissed. He felt Sam grind against him, complain about something. Somehow he found the strength to push his body up the bed, which would give Sam more freedom to lay on top of him, or straddle him with more ease. He moved his own hands to Sam's ass, groping, molding, then gently stroking his back, mentally trying to think the words of nursery rhymes to prevent himself from flipping them over and taking control again.

The touch of Dean's flesh against his was like a match to dry tinder and sent shockwaves of pleasure through Sam's body. Sam laid his body across his brother's grinding down against the hard line in Dean's pants then lifting up to push into Dean's hands. When Dean's hands moved to his back again Sam let out a frustrated groan and gripped Dean's biceps firmly. Leaning back Sam used all his weight to flip them yanking Dean down on top of his body, breath huffing out as Dean fell hard against him. Sam's cock jumped as soon as he had Dean's full weight on him, "yes," he moaned softly against his brother's mouth, "harder..." Sam's hands moved quickly to Dean's ass, slipping over the smooth material of his dress pants and his fingers dug into the muscle.

Dean gave an answering groan, shifting his hips so he was positioned over Sam's cock. He was so fucking hard, and Sam had to go and say the word harder. Rolling his hips, Dean gripped the side of Sam's face and kissed him mercilessly, until his mouth ached and his breath ran out. By then, Sam's hands were on his back. He gripped Sam's wrists, pulled them up above his head on the mattress and stared at him for a long moment. He was grinding against Sam hard, minutes from getting them both undressed, when he came to his senses, his eyes flying to his hands imprisoning Sam.

He licked his lips, and released him immediately. "I love you." Gently, he stroked Sam's face, his raging hormones be damned, he was not taking him like that, not again. "Need to... need a second," he nodded and lifted off Sam, lowering himself onto the mattress next to him and starting to bring his mouth down over Sam's chest.

Sam huffed out a breath and pushed himself back from Dean... "Dean...? Have I ..." Sam licked his lips and looked down at this brother, "done something wrong?" He tugged on Dean's shirt, pulling it the rest of the way off and tossing it to the side. He wriggled down so he could lick his way back into his brother's hot mouth, letting out a frustrated growl asoff he sensed Dean's hesitancy again. Sam kissed Dean's lips softly then laid back on the bed, stretching his arms back up above his head the way Dean had held them for those few moments. Sam's eyes burned into Dean's and he let his hips rock up off the bed. "C'mere..." he almost whispered.

"Course you didn't..." Seeing Sam's 'come hither' look sent even more blood surging to Dean's cock. He rolled on top of Sam, eyes blazing as hotly as Sam's as understanding dawned. "You sure?" They both knew what he was talking about.

Sam's lips parted to let out a breath, his eyes dark and purposeful, "Dean...yes...." He rocked his hips, letting them move in a figure eight, "please...want you ... like before." Before, hands everywhere, rough, hard, intense, he wasn't going to break and he needed to let Dean see that, know that.

Sam's movements had Dean sucking his breath in. Teeth gritted together, he nodded. "Tell me, if..." He held Sam's stare for a few more seconds, then lifting off him moved down. His hands were on Sam's jeans, pulling them down his legs, then he tugged hard and had them off. On his knees, he undid his own pants, then kicking them off, lay on top of Sam. Using his legs, in conjunction with Sam's, they kicked and pushed off Sam's shorts from his knees all the way off, moving like eels against each other and groaning in pleasure as their cocks slid against each others' bodies.

Hissing out a "finally" when their bodies rubbed together Sam felt his blood quicken, heard it rushing in his ears. Dean's flesh was perfect against Sam's and he found himself wondering why they just couldn't stay there forever. His hands curled into fists above his head, he wanted to touch Dean, but he wanted so much more to show Dean that he trusted him completely.

Looking at Sam's arms still above his head, Dean gripped his wrists with each hand, then lowered his mouth and kissed Sam. There was no longer any hesitation, no quarter given. The kiss burned with everything he felt for his brother. Layers of love and need and lust adding up to undying and relentless desire. His body and tongue moved in tandem, desperate in and out, up and down motions, hard thrusts and grinding hips. "Good so good Sammy. Mine." He kissed again, then lifted his head. "Still mine, for always."

Dean's words wrapped around Sam's spine, tightening, pulling his body up off the mattress in a long beautiful arch. His hips moved up seeking the warmth, roughness, presence of Dean's body.

Feeling Sam raise his hips, he lowered his head, kissing his way down Sam's chest. He made love to every inch of him, not hiding his desperation or need, not gentling it. When he finally released Sam's wrists, he wrapped his hand around his brother's cock, stroking, watching Sam's reactions, grinding his own arousal into Sam's firm thigh.

As his hands moved down over Dean's back, Sam's breath hitched in his chest. He rolled his hips up, sliding his aching cock into his brother's calloused palm then pulling back slowly thighs shuddering. "God ... Dean..." it had been so long since Dean has touched him like this and Sam's body had been aching for it. Sam wanted Dean so much he felt clumsy, suddenly unsure of himself. Slipping a hand between their slick bodies Sam's long fingers curled around his brother's shaft. So hard, . A hum was brewing deep in Sam's chest, the purring sound that only Dean's body dragged out of Sam.

Dean's breath hitched at the intense heat that emanated from Sam's hand pumping his cock. He was so fucking hard already, pulsing in his brother's hand, his need building with each stroke. He licked his lips and ran his thumb over Sam's sensitive head, circling it, putting a little more pressure right under his crown. The shudder that ran through his brother was echoed by his own, and punctuated by a loud groan. As they fucked each others' fists, he held his weight slightly up with one arm and never looked away... the constant eye contact doing things to his insides.

When he couldn't take it another moment without the fear of coming, Dean pulled Sam's hand off himself. "Want to come inside you," he said, his voice husky with need. Bringing his mouth down hard over Sam's, he kissed Sam one more time, then grabbing the lube on the nightstand, crawled down his body. Pushing his legs wide apart, he quickly lubricated him, working the ointment inside first with one, then two fingers. Each time his fingers slid inside, all he could think about was his cock pushing inside Sam's slick channel, the sounds he'd make, the pressure with which he'd close around him, and it took every fucking thing he had to hold on... to wait until his brother was ready for him.

Sam kept his eyes focused on his brother's, licking his lips to soak up the taste of Dean's mouth. Sam's body pivoted on his hips, pushing against Dean's fingers, sliding away - and all Sam could see were those green eyes full of desire, want, need and the underlying gentleness that Dean struggled to hide from everyone. Everyone but Sam. A smile tugged at the corner of Sam's lips, his fingers ghosted over Dean's hips, tracing the furrow in front of his hip bone. He walked his fingers back as far as he could reach, just feeling the seductive curve of Dean's ass. All he wanted was to grab that ass and pull Dean into him, images and sensations of their first time together rolling through his brain.

Dean's face was flushed, his freckles standing out on his cheeks and Sam could see by the subtle tremble in his body how he wrestled with his control. "I want you...." Sam murmured never looking away from his brother, "want you now" A jerk of his hips put the emphasis on now and Sam's eyes widened as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. He worked himself up and down on Dean's fingers, loving the feel of any part of Dean's inside him, claiming him and he could feel the flush of desire crawling across his chest. Letting his hands fall to his own belly Sam ran his palms down his sides and then further down to curl over his own hips. "M'ready... Dean ... want you...."

Following the path of Sam's hands, Dean's eyes darkened with desire. His brother's declaration catapulted him into action. Grabbing a pillow, he shoved it under Sam's ass, then on his knees, aligned the blunt tip of his cock. His gaze flicked to Sam's face as he grasped his hips and pulled him close, surging forward at the same time. He would have buried himself balls deep if he'd done what his body wanted him to. Instead, he pushed half way in, throwing his head back and biting his lip to keep his control. "God Sam... so fucking tight, so hot. Need you," he managed to breath out, sweat covering his forehead as he pulled out slowly.

The breath slowly hissed out of Sam's lungs as Dean sank into him. He breathed through the burn, head thrown to the side; his hands grasped the sheet beneath him in tight fists, then slowly released as his body stretched to accommodate Dean. Eyes glazed and happy, Sam's head moved back - his eyes seeking his brothers and he rolled his hips up, teasing, tempting Dean.

Aligning himself again, this time he thrust his hips harder, found himself sheathed in his brother's heat, grinding and pulsing against him as he searched for Sam's pleasure spot. The minute his cock dragged against Sam's prostate, Dean knew it from his reactions. Falling forward on his elbow on either side of Sam's body, he started to fuck to a nice steady beat, angling to make sure he was pleasuring Sam as much as himself. When they were in sync, he started to pump Sam's cock with one hand, and reached to kiss him. Sam was right, this was the home stretch.

Sam cried out, sparks of desire rushing through his body and pulled Dean closer gasping into his brother's mouth as their lips met just as another deep thrust sent shock waves through Sam's body. "God... Dean..." Sam's voice was breathy and thin, his face painted with bliss and desire. Sam thrust his tongue into Dean's mouth, matching his brother's rhythm. So deep. Their bodies worked together, sweat slick skin sliding easily, Sam flung his head back and wrapped his legs around Dean urging him on with the small sounds the slipped from his lips.

Oh God, each time Sam drew him into his body, Dean's world rocked off its axis. He moved harder, faster, lifting up and then lowering down, using his weight each time he pushed inside. The kissing and the groping got wilder, the sounds that broke out of them louder. "Fuck Sam... so good... so fucking good," he ground out, as need wound tighter and tighter in his belly. He started angling his thrusts and alternating between long and short strokes, his focus only on Sam, how he tasted, how he sounded, how he felt clenching around him, how they were both close to the point of exploding. "Come... come baby, come now," he pleaded, putting more pressure on Sam's cock, stroking it as hard as he was fucking Sam.

Sam's hips jolted forward, Dean's voice spiraling through his mind and he felt his orgasm shooting through him, like fingers of fire working their way across his belly. His cock pulsed in his brother's hand as Dean slammed into his ass, pushed him further up the bed. Sam clung to his brother's body, legs tightening, arms pulling his down as hot pulses of come shot between them.

His brother's release pushed Dean over the edge. Lowering the full weight of his body over Sam now, trapping Sam's cock between them, smearing his cum across both their chests, he pounded into him as hard as he could, sending the headboard slamming into the wall. "Oh God, oh God Sammy," he cried out through teeth gritted together as he let loose all of his anxiety, all the need that had been building up, all his fears that this could never happen again. "Yes... oh Fuck..." his hand slammed against the headboard. "Yes!" His body stretched taut, he kept still, riding the last waves of his release, and then gently pulling out and collapsing over his brother.

When he slid his mouth over Sam's, he tasted tears, but didn't know they were his own. "It's alright Sam. I gotcha... alright," his heart skipped a beat, but his brother's reassuring squeeze had him relaxing again.

Sam kept Dean close to him, and reached up to wipe a tear off Dean's face with his thumb. Love welled up inside Sam, filling up all the emptiness, the time that they'd spent apart. Leaning in he pressed an open mouthed kiss to Dean's cheek, wiping away all evidence that he had cried. "I love you," he whispered against Dean's cheek knowing he wouldn't get away with the romance all night. Grinning, Sam pulled back a little so he could see Dean's face. "You sure know how to treat a guy."

He was moved, and a little embarrassed, but he fought the instinct to wipe his own face free of tears. Clearing his throat, Dean answered, "ditto, love you." He grinned then. "It's not that, it's that you're easy. Yeah you are, all it takes is a tux... who knew?" He moved away to avoid any punches little bro might try to throw at him.

Grabbing his brother's shoulder, Sam grinned as he scrambled across the bed in time to catch Dean and throw a leg over him, pinning him to the bed. "So..." Sam leaned down and teased Dean's lips with his own, "what now?" He looked around the room from his spot on Dean's thighs settled his ass back to get more comfortable. "Shower? Food? I know you need some time to recuperate." Sam smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Wrestling? Go for a swim? I suppose...if you're really tired... I could just do some research..."

"Yeah... research this," grabbing his brother's hand, he placed it over his own dick which started to harden almost as if on command. "Let me know what you find out." Dropping back onto the mattress, he watched Sam from under heavy lidded eyes.

* * *

The weekend was over and they were having a last breakfast on the balcony, compliments of the last guy whose visa card Dean had palmed. They still had to go back to the motel and pick up some stuff since he hadn't canceled the room cause that's where his dad expected him and Sam to be, and then they'd hit the road. When the phone rang, it wasn't his cell or Sam's.

Raising a brow, he stepped just inside the room through the sliding doors, and picked up the phone on the table, hoping it wasn't a problem with the credit card. "Hello?"

"Dean?" John's voice was short, gruff, "What the hell are you doing?"

"D...dad?" Dean pulled the phone from his ear, looked at it. It was this hotel's phone. Eyeing Sam, he brought it back to his ear. "What... what do you mean?"

John grunted into the phone as he swung his bag up on to the bed. "Vacations over - you and Sam need to get your asses to Delaware. I need a hand with someone before ... you two ... take off again."

"Right... okay... Delaware." For once, Dean was first to hang up. Shell shocked, he walked out to Sam. "How'd he know we were here. You don't think the window..."

Sam puffed out his cheeks as he blew out a breath, "I .. maybe Dad's psychic." He turned to Dean and shrugged a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "but maybe... now that we're going to be together all the time, we should make sure the curtains are closed." He leaned over to kiss the corner of Dean's mouth, "you know, just in case."

"Not funny." Dean blanched. He'd always cared more about what dad thought anyway. Then Sam was laughing against his neck and Dean started too. It wasn't only going to work out, it already was working out for them.

THE END of the story and the verse :)


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